


through the storm we reach the shore

by stickmarionette



Category: American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: F/M, Futurefic, M/M, Novella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2017-10-12 06:12:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 52,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stickmarionette/pseuds/stickmarionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Someone has to keep the paparazzi employed."</i></p><p><i>"Better you than me, dude," Kris says brightly. Then, softer, serious and a little cynical, "and you do such a great job."</i></p><p><i>There are about a dozen different ways to interpret that, or there would be if Adam didn't recognise the conspiratorial gleam in Kris's eyes.</i></p><p>Five years on, the rules have changed, even if the people haven't.  A story about fame, music and screwed up love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. maybe tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written as a ficlet for ohmygod13 in the charity drive for Haiti at ontd_ai. Needless to say, the story grew in the telling. Major thanks to my betas oatmeal_cookie, inbetweencabs and yetunknown for all their hard work. More detailed notes and acknowledgements at the end of this monster.

  
_[2009  
idols live tour press day]_   


  
They're in between interviews, the last local music journalist having just escaped with barely concealed relief written all across his face about thirty seconds ago.

Kris leans across the not terribly far distance between them, his breath warm against Adam's ear.

"Think that poor guy was bored by me?" he says, amused and a little bit sassy, and this is exactly why Adam finds annoyed Kris so entertaining.

Annoyed and slightly bitchy Kris should come out to play more often. Never mind that, when it comes to interviews, having anything resembling Kris's actual personality on show would help. Adam thrives on being unfiltered, especially after the controlled environment of Idol, and he doesn't believe in being anyone but himself. On a fundamental level, he doesn't really get why Kris guards himself like he does.

"You could try engaging with everyone and not just the interviewers you like," he says eventually, the words laced with exasperation and affection.

Kris smiles at that, but it's fleeting, there and gone in a second. He casts his eyes down at the shiny Aviators clutched in his right hand. "They can't take anything from me unless I give it to them. It's how I cope."

  
_[2014]_   


> Q: This is your fourth studio album in five years. Any particular lessons learnt from previous experiences that you've applied this time around?
> 
> A: I feel like I rushed things a little with the last album, because it had to be done before _Nightfall_ 's release date. Don't get me wrong, getting to provide the soundtrack for the film was a really great opportunity, but the time constraints were insane. It made me realize that making an album a year just isn't realistic. That's why I took my time with this one.

  
RCA have been pretty good to him through the years, but everybody fights with their label, and Adam's never been closer to storming off in a huff than the shouting matches – no, sorry, meetings – about his new album.

The results are more than worth it, though.

Singers who got their start on American Idol can't really afford to be precious about their art, especially for the first couple of albums. Adam accepted that as part of the deal and lived with everything that came with it, but it's been five years. He's allowed to be a little self-indulgent now.

His phone vibrates when he's leaving the studio. It's from Kris.

 _Lil birdie told me you're finally making a rock album. Bout time_

Adam has to tamp down the urge to grin at his phone. 'Rock' is probably a misleading description, but sure, it's different from anything he's ever done before. He's ridiculously excited about it.

 _You mean pls give me a sneak peek right?_

The reply comes after about five minutes.

 _Duh, don't make me ask you nicer_

He'd prefer to play some songs for Kris over the phone, get his often entertaining and always useful reactions completely unfiltered, but they're both far too busy to make that work right now.

That's the thing about friendships in this business – there's a lot of compromise involved, and nothing's ever ideal. Fortunately, Adam's always known how to make do.

A week later, he gets an email from Kris with comments on every song, ranging from just emoticons and capslock abuse to detailed suggestions on production. And also this, at the end:

 _this is seriously AMAZING, man, screw the label if they try to tell you different_

\- which kind of makes Adam wish Kris could magically appear so he can give him an overenthusiastic hug.

\----------------------------------

Both his manager Lizzie and his publicist Lara look like they've been losing weight ever since the separation went to the lawyers. Kris makes a mental note to get them both something nice – he can't really send them on holiday with everything going on, so maybe a pay rise? – once this is over.

He feels bad for making them worry. The problem with being an established musician is that his career isn't his own any more – there are people who'd get in trouble, maybe lose their jobs, if his next album tanked. So even if he doesn't care what the divorce does to his image – and he does, though probably not in the way people expect him to – he sort of has to.

Of course management are worried that the 'failure' of his marriage is going to play out badly in the press. That's how they think. Kris wasn't even that surprised when Brian very gently raised the possibility of blaming it on Katy.

He _was_ a little surprised that they thought he would even consider it.

Maybe they're not as close as they used to be, but there's no way he can call what happened a failure. How can a relationship that lasted almost half his life be called that? They made it work when he was all over the country touring, and they made it through three years of Katy being based in Vancouver half the time for her CW show. He's still proud of that. Both of them are.

  
* * *

  
After it's done, official, all the papers signed, they go out for dinner. Nothing fancy, though, because they're both flying out early the next day, Katy back to Vancouver and Kris heading to Nashville for a couple of final writing sessions before he starts putting the album together.

(Somehow, this is their life. When he feels like he's barely treading water, like right now, it's an effort to remember what it's all for.)

Kris reckons the relaxed atmosphere as they eat is about half genuine. The other half is their collective determination to not be weird about this.

It would help if Kris could stop fiddling with his wedding ring.

The timing's not great for either of them, so they're waiting for a while before going public with it. Somehow that knowledge is making him hyper-aware of the ring's presence against his skin, and he can't stop touching it.

Katy notices it about halfway through dessert. The way she smiles at him, equal parts sad and affectionate, makes his chest ache.

"You know, I'm going to be holding your next girlfriend to a ridiculously high standard. It's not even jealousy, I'm just going to be really critical."

Kris grins. "That's nothing next to what's going to happen when you try to introduce me to your date at the next awards show party."

"I'm serious," Katy says, but she's grinning back.

"I know, I'm a special snowflake, I should look for someone who likes me for me," Kris laughs, "Katy, I – "

He wants to say _sorry_. Or maybe _thank you_. But suddenly whatever it is doesn't seem enough, and the words get stuck in his throat.

Katy shakes her head. "It's okay. You don't have to."

"I do have to," Kris says, frustrated. "You're a better friend than I deserve."

"No, I try to be exactly the friend you deserve," Katy grins, carefully stealing a bite of his ice cream cake.

"…even if I end up with a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend?" Kris says quietly. Holding her warm gaze is an effort, and he just about manages.

Nothing at all changes in Katy's eyes. That's all the answer he needs, really.

"You have to ask?"

No, he really doesn't. But it's always nice to hear.

"Although, the 'does he hold a candle to Adam Lambert' test will be rigorously applied. I'm warning you now."

Kris smacks his forehead with his palm. Now he can't quite meet her eyes. "Why you gotta bring that up? You know he's not the only guy I've ever looked at like that."

She taps his nose playfully. "True, but I know you. Come on, finish your cake, we've got places to be."

> A certain outre rock star is contemplating taking a break from all the glitz and glamour after recent revelations about his increasingly bizarre behaviour published on a well-known gossip site were sourced to his ex.

The damage isn't actually that bad. Sure, the timing is terrible, he doesn't need this bullshit while he's touring on the back of a successful new album, but people who think that Adam is 1) a diva and 2) freakish and about to corrupt all their children already do without any 'evidence'. His actual fans are always on his side, and as childish as that sounds, at times like these he can only be thankful for their loyalty. As it stands, album sales will probably go up once all the gossip sites and magazines start digging into this story.

Adam really shouldn't be so pissed off and hurt, but he is. Betrayal stings, even after five years in this business and plenty of cautionary tales. He feels like an idiot, even though intellectually there's really no way he could have known.

Maybe part of it is just him not being used to messy break-ups, and the nasty consequences that might follow. He's only ever had two proper, serious, head-over-heels relationships before Sam, and both Brad and Drake are still friends.

Right on cue, the door of his hotel room bangs open.

"I always thought that bitch wasn't good enough for you."

Adam can't help a laugh, even if it's a bit bleak right now. It's Brad - resistance is futile, especially when he's clearly relishing playing to type. "Thanks."

"So...what? Do I have your permission to go ahead and ruin his reputation?"

"Maybe later. I - I'm just tired, you know? I thought Sam would be safe because he's not Hollywood, but…look what happened."

Brad shakes his head slowly, eyes softening.

"You don't need this bullshit right now," he says, wrapping wiry arms around Adam and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Go be a rock star, finish your tour, let the people you pay to handle situations like this take care of it. And don't stress so much, for fuck's sake. Next time you show up at one of my parties you better have some flesh back on your bones."

Adam exhales slowly, feeling himself unwind for the first time in what feels like forever. "Bossy. Nice, I like it."

"Shut up and acquire better taste in men. Present company excluded, obviously."

  
* * *

  
Kris texts him the next day.

 _Hey, you okay?_

Adam hesitates a moment, thinking.

 _Coping. You know. You?_

 _Coping. We shld hang out. Talk._

It's not the reply he was expecting. Adam makes a mental note to check up on Kris, see if he's having problems with his label or something.

 _After tour, def. Take care._

The reply only takes a minute.

 _It's a date_

> It's been a big year for Kris Allen. He experienced significant upheaval in his personal life, spent a month working with various charities in South Africa and finally nailed down a release date for his third major-label album.

Maybe a part of Kris just wanted to run away for a while. But mission trips have always centered him and made him happier, more certain of who he is and more comfortable with his place in the world. Most importantly, he's never stopped wanting to help people. It all makes sense, even if Jive had to be brought around to see things from his point of view.

(They really should know what he's like by now.)

Anyway, it was probably the best thing he could have done. The point of going on these trips is always to do something meaningful for people who need it, and he tries not to forget that. But at the same time, as soon as he touched down in South Africa and got to work it felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

Kris doesn't want to leave when the month is up. The experience remakes him – these things always do, but this time, somehow, it feels like more. Like he's been made anew right down to his bones, armed with new strength. Like he can not only look the world in the face again but laugh while he does it.

  
* * *

  
Immediately after news of the divorce finally goes public, Kris invites Katy to his concert in New York. They spend far too much time in different countries these days, but she's in town for a week filming some pick-ups for her first movie role - an ambitious but minimal-budget project with an up-and-coming director. ( _"It's not much, but it's a start, you know?"_ )

The concert's at a decent-sized venue, but not so big that he can't feel the energy of the crowd around him, which makes it just about perfect. Towards the end of his set, he looks out into the crowd, searching for one particular face.

"Okay, I'm going to play an older song – "

He's drowned out by the ear-shatteringly loud response of the crowd.

" – ooh, you like that. I wrote this song before I went on this crazy show you may have heard of – yeah, a couple of you remember Idol, nice – and it's always meant something to me. I wrote it for someone and – and what it means hasn't really changed, at all. No matter what else has."

She's looking up at him, eyes wet but lips drawing up into the smile he'd fallen in love with all those years ago. He smiles back and tries not to let his voice get choked up.

"So one more time, for one of my closest friends, Miss Katy O'Connell, this is _Red Guitar_."

  


> Q: I've heard some people say your split was almost too amiable, that they find it odd that you're still so close.  
> A: I don't - we didn't get divorced for publicity, if that's what you're trying to get at.
> 
> Q: So if you don't mind me asking - what happened?  
> A: You know, I think…we don't love each other less. Just differently.

  
It sounds good when he says it, and has the added benefit of being true.

One day, he'll be able to look at her and only feel warmth and a little wistfulness. One day, there won't be this phantom pain like peeling off a scab. For now, they're slowly learning how to be 'just' friends again.

  
* * *

  
Adam calls him from London at 2AM when he hears about it.

"I'm sorry, I had no idea – why the hell did you not tell me?" he says, sounding angry, in lieu of hello.

Kris sighs. "I knew you had a lot going on."

It's more complicated than that, really, but he's not up to talking about it. Especially over the phone on an international call.

"So? This is more important."

Adam is actually upset, he can tell. Maybe that's why they've managed to stay friends through all these years of not having time to see each other. Neither of them can stop caring.

"More important than your album and your international tour? Not even getting into everything else that you've had to deal with – "

"I'm never too busy to help a friend. You know that."

"Adam."

"…yeah?"

"It's not – I didn't want to talk about it, and I made sure I was too busy to think about it for a long time. That's why."

When Adam speaks again, his voice is soft, and times like these it feels like Kris is seeing something few others even realize exists.

"Are you okay?"

Kris has to think carefully before he opens his mouth. It's a difficult question to answer, these days. "Of course it's not what we wanted. It's – you don't know how bad it was, not knowing what to do. And it was hard seeing her sometimes, but we're going to be okay now. That's all that counts."

Adam is silent for a long moment. "Remind me next time I see you – I owe you like a hundred hugs."

"I will," Kris says, knowing that Adam can hear the smile in it.

"You're still talking to each other, right?"

"What do you think?"

"Say hi for me, would you? And give her a hug for me too, if that's not too weird now."

Kris chuckles. "That's never going to be too weird."

It's part of who they are and how they live. Simple as that.

  


> Her character on a popular CW drama may be having relationship trouble, but our sources are questioning the actress's real life separation from her dreamy troubadour husband after the two were spotted getting cosy at a party in LA.

  
Enjoying industry parties is a skill Kris still hasn't mastered, unlike other more easily acquired skills such as dealing with the paparazzi and playing hardball with record label executives. Mostly he finds them exhausting, especially when he's alone.

(And worst of all, he blames them for his newfound love for girly cocktails.)

So when he spots Katy coming in, glowing in a pretty red gown, any awkwardness he might have felt is overwhelmed by relief.

She checks her step when she sees him and they just look at each other for a moment, completely ignoring the curious glances being directed their way.

Here's the neat thing about Katy: no matter what they're wearing or where they're at, when she smiles at him like that it's like nothing's changed at all.

"Fancy seeing you here."

Faced with that, it's difficult not to beam at her.

"Yeah? You look nice."

"So do you. How's the party?" she says, eyeing the scary looking, vaguely couch-shaped thing he'd been trying not to sprawl on.

Kris waves an arm aimlessly. "Oh, you know…I think I'm literally dying of boredom. Where's your date?"

"Ditched him at the last afterparty we went to. He looked happy as a pig in mud but the conversation about fitness regimes was sapping my will to live."

Kris finds himself grinning helplessly. "In that case, wanna be dateless buddies? The cocktails here are pretty good," he says, standing with an effort and offering her his arm. "What do you say, Milady?"

She takes it with a soft laugh and no hesitation at all.

"Forget about drinks, I'm just happy to see real food. Lead the way."

Half an hour later, Kris is maybe a little drunk. Or at least that's his excuse for leaning into Katy's side, stifling his giggles against the hollow of her throat. Judging by the way she's stroking her fingers through his hair, careless of whatever the stylist had done to it earlier that day, she doesn't mind.

They'd found a slightly less scary-looking couch in a corner, away from the most of the crowd but still perfectly good for people-watching.

"What's so funny?" Katy says, the words breathed against his ear, making him shiver, and maybe he should put a little more distance between them right now. That would probably be the smart thing to do, because if they were getting weird looks before it's nothing compared to now.

Here's the thing, though – he can't bring himself to care.

"It's like we're giving off a force field of potential awkwardness that's warding other people off," he says in an exaggerated whisper, and stays right where he is.

"Their loss," Katy says lightly. "Wanna know a secret?"

"Yeah?"

She looks down and away. "I miss you sometimes."

"I miss you all the time," he says in a rush, too quiet and soft to laugh it off as a joke after the fact, and hates himself a little when it makes her eyes snap back up to his face, wide with worry.

"But…we're okay, right?"

He doesn't really have to think about it.

"Yeah. Of course. Ignore me, it's just."

 _Please change the topic._

Luckily, she's always known when he needs rescuing.

"I know. So tell me about the new guy."

Kris sits up - probably too fast. Definitely too fast. "What new guy?"

"Oh, Kristopher," Katy says, shaking her head and grinning. "It's like that, huh?"

 _Crap._

"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbles unconvincingly, looking down at his shirttails.

Katy laughs outright. " _I_ was asking about your new guitar player. What did you think I was referring to? Come on, you promised to keep me updated on these things."

  
* * *

  
Kris hadn't wanted Jonathan in his life. He would have preferred it if Cale didn't have to take breaks from the band or LA at all, really, but that's not how it works. Friends get married and have kids and don't come around as much any more. That's life. It's just hard to take when the friend's been with him so long he feels the loss like a severed limb.

Right now, they're making the rounds promoting _Break Me Down_ , the first single from the new album he can't quite decide on a name for, and Andrew is the only one who's still around from the early post-Idol days. Which is – well.

One night last year, sitting around in their hotel suite a couple of hours after an acoustic gig, Andrew had haltingly admitted that he never imagined sticking around for this long, at least not when they first met.

 _"But we changed your mind, right?"_

 _"You did."_

The point is, he doesn't like having to break in new people. It takes time and effort, and Jonathan is even more resistant than Andrew was, mostly for the same idealistic music snob type reasons. Which Kris mostly respects, even if he thinks their total disdain for anything popular is silly, and he'll happily have that conversation at 3 AM on the tour bus as long as the other person makes some effort to engage. Right now, that last part's the problem.

"So what are you going to do about Mr Tall, Dark, and Silent?"

When _Andrew_ describes someone like that, there's definitely something going wrong.

Kris rubs a hand over his face. "You try telling him that having a good time doesn't mean he's sold his soul to the devil. Maybe he'll believe you."

"I already did."

"And?"

"He accused me of being Stockholmed," Andrew says, smirk belying his even tone. "I _think_ he was joking."

Kris suddenly has the uncontrollable urge to beat his forehead against the nearest available surface. Which, as it happens, turns out to be Andrew's chest. "Oh for - fine, if he wants to be difficult, we can totally do this the hard way."

Andrew winces, enough for Kris to feel it against his body.

"What?"

"Your hazing methods are sadistic."

Kris grins crookedly. "Only a little bit."

And that's that. He even pretends not to hear Andrew's muttered reply.

 _"Even if you already know how to press his buttons?"_

It may be unscrupulous, but he'll take any advantage he can get.

  
* * *

  
Kris isn't in the habit of lying, either to himself or other people. He knows that part of the reason he's so determined to get Jonathan to crack is just how frustratingly aloof he is. The other part, maybe, is the person he can see underneath that surface. Kris had glimpsed a different man at the auditions – still quiet and soft-spoken, but not nearly so closed off, and he wants to see that Jonathan again. So that the band will work better together, of course.

And if he's really honest -

Kris's never been good with temptation. Especially when it comes in the form of the flush that creeps up Jonathan's neck when Kris gets down on his knees and sings the pleading bridge of _Break Me Down_ at him during a concert; the way he stills, grey eyes darkening, when Kris climbs all over him to get to the other side of the couch; the way he stares at Kris's hands on the keyboard when he thinks nobody's paying attention.

He's walking a fine line, which isn't a problem. A part of him enjoys that. The problem is not knowing where to stop, because as fun as it is to get a rise out of Jonathan, his own reactions are starting to make him pause.

It's just harmless fun. Wanting more isn't in the script.

  
* * *

  
Javi drops in on them at rehearsal, making Kris get all nostalgic. Mark the new drummer is great, but he's still too wary, not quite as easy-going he could be. Javi had got Kris from the day they met.

It helps that they have a similar sense of humour (of the anything goes variety) and personal boundaries (best left behind while on tour), which means that Javi happily submits himself to Kris's idea of a hug ( _"man, it's like you're trying to crawl under my skin and set up camp there…I like it"_ ). And he just sort of settles in when Kris doesn't let go straight away, not at all tentative about putting his hands on Kris's waist.

When he sneaks a glance back, Jonathan's doing a hilariously terrible job of trying to hide his disapproval from the rest of the guys.

"Does he realize he's doing that all the time?"

Andrew doesn't even look up. "Oh, he knows. You should probably think about this, though - Kris only goes for the willing victims."

Kris wouldn't put it quite like that, but – sure.

  
* * *

  
It's a nice night, and his hotel room has a balcony. He's just standing outside enjoying the slight breeze and offhandedly looking for familiar constellations when there's a knock on the door.

On the other side is Jonathan, looking as serious as Kris has ever seen him.

"Can we talk?"

Kris can feel his heart sinking. He'd actually thought things were going pretty well with the band, all things considered. Now what?

"Sure, come on in. You mind if we go outside? It's nice."

He waits for Jonathan to nod before turning to head for the balcony again, tracking Jonathan's progress by his soft footsteps, and finally the hand he places on Kris's shoulder. Kris takes a moment to enjoy the warmth of it seeping through his shirt, fighting down the sudden urge to lean back into his body.

(If this was Cale, he'd do it, no hesitation required, and Cale would know he's just touch-starved, looking for uncomplicated contact, someone to hold him up for a bit.

But with Jonathan, things are a little different.)

When he finally turns to face Jonathan, it's without the rueful grin inspired by that thought. Little victories and all that.

"So. What's up?"

Jonathan holds his gaze for a while, silent, maybe looking for something there. Judging by the frustrated sigh he lets out as his eyes drop, whatever expression Kris has on his face isn't it.

"I'm just going to come out and say it, and if this conversation goes completely off the rails I'll pack up and leave, no strings attached. Okay?"

 _Uh, how about no?_

It's Kris's turn to place a hand on his shoulder, just resting there for now, feeling the strength there beneath the skin but ready to turn restraining at the slightest hint of trouble. He smiles, trying for encouraging. Not that Jonathan seems capable of meeting his eyes right now.

"What's wrong?"

Jonathan's shoulders tense up, his whole posture as defensive as Kris has ever seen him. And that's saying a lot, because Kris was there that time Andrew got on his case about his not-so-secret love for Shakira.

 _"Why's that something to be ashamed of, anyway? I don't get you snobs."_

 _"We just have standards. In theory," Andrew says, raising his eyebrows at Jonathan, who very carefully waits until Kris isn't looking before glaring at Andrew. Or at least he thinks Kris isn't looking._

Really, it was kind of adorable.

"You've been driving me to distraction, I think on purpose," he says, a quiet murmur barely making itself heard over the sudden overwhelmingly loud hammering of Kris's heart. "I just – I need to know what the point is."

Kris takes a deep, steadying breath. A part of him is glad to be put on the spot. The rest is terrified.

"Usually? Nothing."

Jonathan's face shuts down and he tries to leave, only freezing in place when Kris slides his hand down, grabbing his arm in a tight grip that's probably just this side of painful.

He can't help it right now.

"But sometimes, sometimes it's different – "

Jonathan's still all tensed up as Kris tugs him closer, whole body thrumming with it, at least right up until Kris kisses him, mostly chaste but for the way Jonathan shudders when Kris bites at his bottom lip, then it's like he's flipped a switch.

"Do you get it now?" Kris says after they break apart, once he remembers how to breathe. Jonathan's staring at his face again, but with a wondering smile this time.

It's not the first time Kris has seen Jonathan smile, not even the first time it's been in response to something he did. But it might be the first time Kris's been meant to see it.

Jonathan should smile more. It transforms the harsher angles of his face from the unapproachable distance of a nice medieval statute to something closer to home, and the way his lips curve up at the sides makes Kris want to taste.

"You could explain it again."

  


> American's Sweetheart just separated from his actress wife last year, and now he's running around playing with boys. But is this change of heart for real, or does it have more to do with the new album he's got coming out early next year?

  
It's a quiet dinner on a Thursday night, but there are still some paparazzi lurking outside the restaurant when they come out. No way they're there just for Kris, and if this was two months ago they might even leave him alone, but it seems with all the rumours he's suddenly enough of a story.

"Hey Kris, nice night out?"

 _You know you've lived in LA too long when -_

"Yeah, sure. How's it going, Vince?"

 _\- you actually know your TMZ stalker's name._

"Good, good. Who's your friend? How about those gay rumours?"

Kris flashes his press grin, the _no comment_ ready on the tip of his tongue, but the deer-in-headlights look on Jonathan's face when he glances back stops him dead.

 _What the hell._

He waits for Jonathan to take the step that brings them level and holds out his hand, palm up, lips curling into the teasing smile that never fails to - there - make Jonathan's eyes crinkle at the corners. It's not quite enough to get him a smile back, but they are in public and surrounded by paparazzi. Kris will take it.

There's a far too long moment of indecision - long enough that Kris's TMZ friend has probably noticed - where Jonathan bites his lip, looks down at Kris's hand, back up at Kris's expression and down again, before he reaches out and laces his fingers through Kris's.

"We're heading home now. Good night, guys."

  
* * *

  
In the car, Jonathan is deathly quiet. Normally that's not a problem - they can go hours without saying much of anything to each other, and Kris likes that - but right now, there's an uncomfortable quality to the silence.

"You know I do that kind of thing with my guy friends all the time, right? Nobody's going to believe the people jumping to conclusions."

Jonathan gives him a startled look. "That's not - Kris. I'm not afraid of people knowing that we're together."

"Uh huh."

He doesn't mean to sound so sceptical, it's just that Jonathan's never been with a guy before and Kris's not sure he's even told anybody beyond his parents that he's got a boyfriend, let alone that it's someone semi-famous.

Kris doesn't mind making it up as he goes along, but it would be nice to know what the boundaries are, here.

"Really. What kind of jackass would I have to be?" Jonathan says, a little wide-eyed, his expression going rueful when Kris starts to smirk. "Uh, don't answer that. I'm just fearing for my life when Lara and Lizzie hear about this."

Kris shrugs, not as easily as he wants to, but close enough. "They know what I'm like by now."

"You're hopeless," Jonathan says, voice soft with affection. The guitar-made calluses on his fingers drag against the sensitive skin at small of Kris's back where his shirt rides up, and his eyes darken when he feels Kris lean into the touch, demanding more without words. "Hopeless."

  
* * *

  
Kris isn't naïve. He knows how important and fragile image can be, he'd just rather make his own calls on what people get to know. The label found that out early enough. Sometimes, though, they still think they get to decide how he comes across.

It's pretty hilarious.

  
* * *

  
He feels kind of bad the next day, when Lara shows up at the studio looking more frazzled than usual, but not nearly enough to regret what happened.

"That was – that works, it's not too far off what we planned, in case we had to say something. It's going to be fine."

She's trying really hard to smile and look reassuring. It's just not working for her today. They've been working together for four years, and he's never seen her look so stressed.

Kris grins, bright and careless, and goes in for a quick hug. They don't usually do this, but it is a special occasion.

"I'd say sorry, except – "

He's really, really not.

When they both pull back, Lara's laughing in his face. "How long have I known you? Just shut up and get on with it."

  
* * *

  
When Kris was fourteen, he had the conversation with his mom, the one about wanting too many things and sin and what was right in the eyes of God. It's still one of his most vivid memories from those years, her arms holding him close and her voice as she said _you're not wrong, because God made you this way – and God can't be wrong_ , her voice almost cracking before that little pause.

It had been difficult at the time – so difficult he doesn't remember how he got up the courage, except he'd always talked to her about everything and wasn't about to stop. But he's been thankful ever since for that conversation, so many times and for so many reasons.

"Well, at least one of my boys still remembers to call their mother," she says, lightly, but Kris still makes a mental note to check up on Daniel, who's usually so good about that kind of thing.

No use delaying the inevitable, though. "I - I have to tell you something."

She laughs, soft. "I had a feeling you might. Should I sit down?"

He really didn't want to do this over the phone. But there's no room on his schedule for a trip back to Arkansas, not for a while.

"Maybe? I don't know. It's not a big – " She's not making a sound, but he can sense it when he's being laughed at. By his own mother, no less. And…now he's blushing. "Oh, fine. I kind of – met someone? His name's Jonathan. I don't know if you remember him - "

"Your new guitar player, the one we met last time?"

"Yeah."

"Kind of quiet, but really polite?"

"That's him."

There's a short pause.

"He's so skinny, have you not been feeding him right?"

The breath Kris had been holding leaves him in a choked laugh. "Mom, come on."

"I taught you better than that. I'm sending extra cookies for him in the next batch, don't you eat them all."

And that's apparently that. Kris feels his numb fingers unclench a little around the phone.

"Thanks, mom," is all he can manage. It's not enough – how can it be? – but he trusts her to know what he means. Everything he means.

"They're just cookies," she says, and she's definitely making fun of him now. "Are you going to try to hide it?"

Yeah, that would be the million dollar question. And that's also the other reason he's calling.

"I could just keep it low key. It's none of anybody's business who I'm with."

He can picture with absolute clarity the small frown that would go with that particular sigh. It's always made him feel guilty on sight.

"Who are you trying to convince, Kris? Think about it."

That's the problem. All he's done lately, in between working on the album and spending time with his band – okay, a specific member of his band - is think about it. Then he realized what he really needed was advice from the person he trusted most to give it. Hence the phone call.

"You think I should let people know. You guys wouldn't – mind?"

His parents are good people who've made their friends with care, but Kris is under no illusions. Not everybody's going to just shrug and let it go.

"I think God gave you a voice that was never meant to be silent," she says, gentle but firm.

And that, really, is that.

"Thank you. I…I understand."

That sigh, on the other hand, means relief. "Could you do something for me?"

"'course."

"That new song of yours, my favourite one, sing me a few verses."

Kris's been thinking of making it the album title track, actually.

 _and I know, I know that love never fails…_

  


> Q: Let me just set the record straight. Are you dating your guitarist Jonathan O'Hara?  
> A: Yeah.
> 
> Q: Oh. Okay. Are you – that is, would you like to make a statement about your sexuality?  
> A: Not really. I want to say it's always been about the person to me, more than anything else, but I know that's not enough. So…I guess bisexual's probably the right term. So, you know, that's that.

  
It wasn't an interview set up especially so he could come out, not matter what people are saying. They were supposed to talk about his single and the album coming out next year, the question was half a joke, none of it was really planned beyond Kris's team and the label having agreed that he might say something during an interview sooner rather than later.

That hadn't been a nice meeting, but in the end all it amounted to was this: someone was going to ask eventually, and Kris was going to answer. No one at the label was going to talk him out of that.

He'd like to say, in retrospect, that he had no idea that enough people would care enough to make it a thing, but that would just be dishonest. He didn't know for sure, he was just hoping it wouldn't.

(That was him being an optimist. The other, more pragmatic side made sure he called Katy right after he left the interview to warn her about what might be coming.)

It's never been a big deal to him, even when he was young and knew nobody else who wanted all these different things like he did, things that maybe he wasn't supposed to want in the eyes of God, at least according to some people.

Even back then, Kris never bought that. How could it be wrong to just want, when it doesn't hurt anybody? He learnt his faith from his parents, who preferred actions to words when it came to God, and what he saw growing up gave life to those words in the Bible, about love being the greatest virtue, above all else. About how the little differences didn't matter.

That's the God he knows. That's how he's learned to live – quietly, but honestly. If other people have a problem, that's their business. And if their problems come from some weird ideas they have about him because of the way he's been perceived ever since Idol, well.

That was the thing about Idol, all those years ago - as he kept trying to say after the finale, it was about singing, sure, but it was also a popularity contest. Which is disgusting, but most of them walked into it knowing that. He and Adam, especially - they were just in it for the recording contract, not to win the love of millions or whatever. That stuff doesn't mean anything, and it's not even real. The guy people fell for is a cardboard cut-out of him, because that's what reality TV does. In 3D he's got edges that can't be sandpapered down to nothing, and not everyone likes that.

That's just fine, though. He knows what he's doing and those people don't know him. The ones who do will understand. And something like his faith, his relationship with God – that's private. No one has the right to ask him to explain that.

  
* * *

  
It's like all the crap Adam gets, just for trying to be himself. Kris can't really explain it in words, but he's honestly thought about Adam in pretty much the same way ever since that first moment in Hollywood, when their eyes met and they both had to stifle a laugh at whatever stupid shit that one crazy girl had been pulling on stage, and Kris couldn't take his eyes off the curve of Adam's smile, the light in his eyes, just like he couldn't stop staring when Adam had been up there singing his face off. Right then, he knew they'd get along. He just had to make it happen.

The part after that is the bit that everybody knows.

  


> Q: Let's get into the stuff fans really want to know, then. So about Adam Lambert...sorry, just kidding, don't answer that.  
> A: It's okay, I'm used to it. Adam's like my bromance life partner, man. Is that - I think I just made that term up. We're like a package deal. He's great.

  
The last time they saw each other, Adam introduced Kris to his latest boyfriend, Sam, who was very pretty and didn't give Kris weird looks when he tackle-hugged Adam from behind for a greeting, stretched up to brush his lips against the back of Adam's neck, breathing out his words against the skin there - _"sorry I missed your birthday,"_ \- and only letting go once he felt the resulting shiver.

(So the guy was totally okay by Kris, or at least he was before all the _National Enquirer_ crap.)

That was almost six months ago, though. Sometimes being busy sucks, even if it's supposed to be an indicator of success.

\----------------------------------

Adam was at a party for most of that day, which is why he hears it first from his publicist of all people when she's giving him a quick run-down of things to watch out for when he's out doing press the next day.

"Oh yeah, you might get asked about Kris. People are buzzing about him right now."

"What about Kris?"

She stops. "You haven't - Oh."

  
* * *

  
Adam feels kind of wrong googling Kris, like he's personally invading his privacy, even though this is the sort of thing he wishes Kris would have told him about before the rest of the world found out. He's busy, sure, but they still text each other regularly enough.

Truth be told, though, Adam's been preoccupied with album promo and the tour and sorting out the mess from the wreckage of his last relationship. Kris disappeared into his studio about a year ago and aside from running off to South Africa that one time, only seems to come out occasionally to play shows and attend a few parties. It's easy to lose touch when they're both that busy, getting by with just the occasional email or text message, and it's a startling thing when Adam realizes that they haven't actually _talked_ for at least four months.

Whose fault is it that they practically inhabit different worlds? Adam goes to award shows and industry parties; Kris doesn't unless he has to. Adam just did his first world tour; Kris's last album got raves from the critics ("Did you know that it's apparently cool to like me now? I'm kind of weirded out," Kris had emailed him after the glowing _Rolling Stone_ review) but his tour consisted of playing colleges and clubs. He covered a lot of ground and sold a lot of albums that way, but got far less press.

Their paths just don't cross all that much, or at least not long enough for a heart-to-heart, the kind of barnstorming chats they'd had back in the Idol mansion all those years ago. Back then, even with that crazy schedule 19E had them on, it felt like they had all the time in the world.

Adam's world is so much bigger now, beyond the confines of that silly mansion and a cheesy reality show that got cancelled years ago, but somehow, sometimes it still feels like his horizons are too small, and narrowing all the time.

  
* * *

  
The pictures are...kind of adorable, in a deeply wrong way. Most of it is the playful smirk curving Kris's lips and the light in his eyes in so many of them, making Adam's head spin with the familiarity of it. He recognises the way the photos progress, in a through-the-looking-glass way.

Kris leaning on his mic stand, grinning madly and singing straight at his new guitarist, the tall, pretty one who's filling in for Cale. The caption says his name is Jonathan and he's from LA, but the only thing Adam's really noticing is the look on his face as he stares back at Kris.

 _Caught_ , and painfully obvious about it because the guy's probably never had to think about hiding it before. Maybe he doesn't even know how far gone he is.

The next one is from the same concert, Kris down on his knees in front of a surprised looking Jonathan, the kind of move that might seem calculated from some people, but doesn't when Kris pulls it. It's the blissed out look on his face, eyes closed, lips just grazing the mic - he's not thinking, just performing, putting everything out there without a care in the world.

Adam gets it - he knows how that feeling inside out, practically lives for it.

The last picture is them outside (after a concert a month later, says the caption). The lighting is terrible, but not enough to hide the way Jonathan has his fingers curled in Kris's hair, mouthing kisses down the long line of Kris's neck, or the small, satisfied smile curving Kris's kiss-swollen lips.

  
* * *

  
It takes Adam a while to figure out how he feels about it.

He's…not exactly shocked, but it's close. Kris had always been matter-of-fact about Adam's sexuality from the first moment they met –

 _"That guy's kind of cute."_

 _"Who, Ricky? Yeah, I see it. He's got a nice smile."_

\- and he'd happily joke about frat boy behaviour during his college days, but that had more to do with him trying to be exactingly open-minded, and being at pains to make sure that Adam would be comfortable with him, than anything else. Or so Adam had assumed.

Sure, Kris was (and probably still is) an indiscriminate flirt, but that was irrelevant, because he only had eyes for one person in the end. That was one of the things Adam liked about the Allens - their utter security and faith in each other.

The end of a relationship as long and influential as that had to cause some shockwaves. That was, after all, partly why Adam had been trying to keep an eye on how both of them were doing, at least when he had a moment to spare. What he'd seen was mostly encouraging – yes, even the part where Kris left the country for a month - and now this.

He feels sorry for Jonathan. Kris must be at loose ends right now, casting around for something to hold on to. It's not like him to be reckless with his personal life, but then it's not like him to make out with guys in public either. What happens when the novelty wears off? That break-up isn't going to be pretty, especially since he's essentially an employee. And it's not like Kris has any experience with navigating the kind of media reaction that's coming for him.

Whether it's his place as a friend to comment on all of this – that's a different question.

What he wants to do more than anything right now, though, is to check up on Kris, make sure he's still handling it all with something approaching his usual cool, even if that might be too much to ask right now.


	2. can't take my eyes off you

It's Kris's first day off in LA in a terrifying long time. Well, he calls them days off - Lizzie probably calls them mental health breaks. All the concerts they've been doing, playing a couple of older songs, as well as some of the new ones which are definitely going to make the album have been tons of fun, but the combination of the shows, the travelling and the kind of press attention he hasn't gotten in years is definitely bad for his mood. And his sanity.

He doesn't want to know what Lizzie had to do to make room in his schedule for today. Whatever it is, though, it's been worth it so far. Kris tends to measure the quality of a day off by how little work gets done. By those standards, it's been a rousing success. The only thing he's done that might qualify as work is trying to make sense of a melody that's been stuck in his head for ages, and writing music is never work.

(The day it becomes a chore, he might as well quit.)

The doorbell brings him out of idly contemplating the idea of getting some food. Unfortunately, it also requires him to leave the comfort of his (fantastic, amazing) couch, which takes not inconsiderable effort.

Before he can convince himself to get up, his phone goes off.

 _From: Mr Crankypants_

Kris really has to change that soon, even if it never fails to make him grin. Jonathan hasn't been cranky around him for ages, for one. Two, it's kind of petty and immature, especially when accompanied by messages like the one he just got.

 _Open up. I come in peace w offerings of food._

Okay, there's his motivation to get up.

"Hang on, I just need to - there. Hi," Kris says, and so what if he's beaming like an idiot at the sight of Jonathan nervously scuffing his sneakers against the floor? He's allowed.

"Hi. Okay for me to drop by?"

He looks uncertain of an invitation, which is just dumb. Kris resists the urge to roll his eyes and reaches out to pull him inside instead.

"Course it is. You did say you were going to."

"I said I _might_ and that you shouldn't wait up," Jonathan says quietly, closing the front door with exaggerated care.

Honestly, he's handling this whole thing with too much care. It's sweet, but completely unnecessary. It wasn't like this last time they were here. Of course, last time was twenty minutes after a concert and they were there because his apartment had a door that locked and didn't come with paparazzi. Taking in the surroundings wasn't exactly a priority.

"Don't worry, I can translate from Jonathan to human just fine." Kris wraps his arms around Jonathan as soon as he turns around, pleased when there's no flinch before he's being hugged back, albeit with only one arm, Jonathan's other hand being occupied by a plastic bag holding a familiar-looking container. "Oh, you bought me Thai? Andrew or lucky guess?"

"…Andrew. He laughed at me for asking, just so you know."

Kris snorts, swiping the takeout container and making for the lounge. He doesn't really believe in eating takeout at the dinner table, and the surface of his nice coffee table acquired the burns to prove it before he trained himself into the careful deployment of coasters.

Takeout safely placed on coffee table, he turns to find Jonathan looking around with open curiosity, although his gaze snaps straight back to Kris as soon as Kris gets within touching distance.

"Next time, ask Andrew why he knows where my favourite Thai restaurant is," Kris says with a toothy grin. Turnabout is fair play, after all.

Jonathan isn't smiling, but it's there in his eyes as he looks down at Kris, an almost tangible warmth. "Ah, is there a story?"

Kris bites his lip, idly considering just how far he should go to protect Andrew's hard-won dignity. His train of thought grinds to a screeching halt when Jonathan brushes his thumb over the indent he just left, first gently and then harder. Reflexively Kris's tongue darts out to lick at the callused skin, just that little strip at the tip of his thumb. It's only a tiny point of contact, both of them standing an arm's length apart, but it feels like a whole lot more, especially with the weight of Jonathan's gaze heavy like a rough caress, lingering on his mouth and the hollow of his throat.

It takes him a moment to remember how his limbs are meant to work, but when their lips meet the rest doesn't take any thought at all. He's used to the way they kiss each other hello now, open-mouthed, sweet and just a little dirty, the familiarity of it a satisfying ache in itself. His body knows how to fit itself against Jonathan's, with its sharp planes and angles, the elegant curve of pale skin over his collarbones that always makes Kris want to taste, the light dusting of stubble over his jaw line that makes Kris's lips tingle when he mouths his way up.

There's a reason they've been doing this far too often in places that aren't strictly private. If Kris ever hears another rant from Brian on where he should and shouldn't make out with his boyfriend again it'll be too soon. It's not Kris's fault Jonathan inspires impulse control problems in him.

Anyway, it's not like they've been caught with their pants down in public. A few blurry cameraphone pictures – okay, not that blurry, someone had a _really_ nice phone – don't equal reckless stupidity. He's not trying to hide anything.

(The one thing he did worry about was how it would affect Katy, but she was the one who texted him the day after the pictures came out, asking if he was okay.)

"We should – maybe – " Jonathan says unconvincingly, husky and hesitant like the words are being dragged from his throat.

Kris contemplates dropping to his knees right there.

" – food? Or not, I – "

Right, delicious-smelling food from his favourite Thai place. For which Jonathan has probably earned himself a few weeks worth of snarky comments from Andrew, who is gleefully taking revenge for all the ribbing Jonathan ever gave him about his musical devotion to a guy who won a cheesy reality show. And then some.

It would be a shame to let it go cold.

"Right, food," he says, trying to sound decisive and not quite getting there if Jonathan's expression is any indication. It doesn't help that he has to take a couple of deep breaths before he's ready to step back.

That, and a silent promise to himself to make Jonathan stay the night.

  
* * *

  
The food is great, as usual, and Kris spends half of the meal talking to Jonathan about how his album is taking shape, and then haltingly trying to find words to describe the problems he's been having with this melody that maybe wants to be a song.

"Play it for me?" Jonathan says, hesitant in the face of his uncertainty.

It's probably the hesitancy that makes Kris agree. All he's got is a chorus' worth of melody, and even after all these years it still feels a little like showing a teacher unfinished homework to play works in progress for other people, but it's just Jonathan. There's no need to be nervous or anything.

His hands are a little unsteady on the guitar.

Jonathan lets out a soft breath when he's done. "Even just that bit you have now, that sounds amazing. Do you know what it's about yet?"

"I think – hm." It takes Kris a moment to get over the flash of pleasure he feels at the compliment, then somehow it just comes to him. "Has to be something sad and desperate, maybe even a little bit dark. Like trying to salvage a relationship, something like that."

Jonathan raises an eyebrow at him. They haven't talked much about Katy, except for that one time they managed to stumble through a conversation about their respective relationship histories one hotel night, thankfully assisted by a bottle of really nice wine, and that wasn't really about endings.

For someone who writes so many songs about endings, Kris hates talking about them. He's known this about himself for a while, even before Katy pointed it out, one of the last times they fought.

Kris shakes his head hard to dispel the thought. It's not a day for dwelling. Instead, he puts down the guitar, closing the distance between him and Jonathan so he can smile up into his face.

"You should move in with me."

Instantly, Jonathan's shoulder turns into a solid block of tension under his hand. "I - I'm not sure."

That look in his eyes, though, that's not all uncertainty.

Kris lets his smile go a little crooked. "Yeah? Come on, your place is tiny. You know you love my TV."

"I don't come around for your TV. And I think you know that," Jonathan says dryly, the seriousness of his gaze belying his tone.

Kris has to stop himself from fidgeting under the weight of that scrutiny. His free hand balls into a fist of its own accord at his side.

"Maybe. So what are you worried about? Keep your lease, just stay over more. I - "

 _No._

He cuts off the rest of that sentence, biting his lip against the urge to say more and looking down at his wrinkled sleep pants, until he feels Jonathan's hand against his jaw, gently tilting his face up.

The look in Jonathan's eyes makes Kris want to kiss him breathless.

"What? Tell me."

Kris takes a deep breath. When his voice comes out, it's a too-quiet mumble and he can still barely keep himself from looking away. "I want to see you when I wake up in the morning. Is that a weird thing to say?"

The silence that follows feels very long, and nowhere near comfortable until Kris finds what he's been looking for in Jonathan's steady gaze.

"No. No, it's not," Jonathan finally chuckles, low and amused. "One day, I'll learn to say no to you. Sure you've got room for all my guitars around here?"

"We'll work it out," Kris says, believing every word.

  
* * *

  
Kris is seriously considering screening his phone calls. If the ones he's been fielding are any indication, he really doesn't want to know what Lizzie and Lara's voicemail inboxes are like.

It's nice that people are interested – all these years and he's never forgotten to be thankful for that – but less so when what they're interested in isn't really him, when you get down to it.

The timing's not great either. Maybe the extra publicity will make Lara's life easier in the long run, but right now his first priority is deciding which songs are going to end up on the album, which means a lot of exhausting meetings and not much time to do press.

When it first looked like this was going to be a bigger deal than he ever imagined, Kris did consider making more of his own decisions about press, but in the end it was easier to leave things be and let his team keep on doing their thing. They know how it all works, and he trusts that they'll both make the right calls and let him know when he needs to decide something.

He's between meetings, sitting around trying to let the silence soothe his poor ears after an hour of Brian's shouting and staring at his phone willing it not to ring. He'll be up to dealing with it again soon, just…not right now.

Lizzie strides into the room like she's already had her day's allocation of caffeine and then some, checking her step at the sight of him trying to melt into his couch.

" _Out_ interview, yes or no?"

That's one of the many cool things about Lizzie: she knows when he wants a head-up about something, and she doesn't mince words.

"Wow, seriously?" Lizzie doesn't even dignify that with a change in facial expression. Which is fine, he said it to get a moment to think. "Whatever, okay. Just make sure they know what they're getting." Whatever Lara tells people to prepare them for his creative stone-walling when things get too personal, it works. They usually don't push too hard. "Hang on, what did Brian say?"

Lizzie's already halfway out the door and doesn't even look back. "Don't ask questions you don't want answered. Oh, and you owe me."

"Believe me, I know," Kris says ruefully, but she's already gone.

His phone buzzes, making him jump. Thankfully, it's only a text message, and it's someone he never gets tired of hearing from.

 _How're you holding up?_

Everyone keeps asking him that. Mostly he's just been brushing it off with a shrug and a 'fine', but Adam – Adam deserves a little more.

 _Not too bad. Complicated. Meet up soon?_

He gets a reply within the minute.

 _Getting on a plane tonight. Def. see you when I get back._

  


> Q: When I said I was interviewing you, three of my friends made me promise to ask you this: are you single at the moment?  
> A: [laughs] No, I'm not. Thanks, though, it's always flattering to be asked.
> 
> Q: Are you getting that a lot now?  
> A: [embarrassed] Heaps more since this year, yeah. I don't mind or anything.

  
Kris is actually not that oblivious. Sometimes it's just easier to pretend not to notice things. Like when people blatantly hit on him - being in a long-term relationship gave him lots of practice at ignoring that one.

Trouble is, now that he's no longer wearing a wedding ring, people misinterpret things more than they used to. He can't just flirt anymore and have it be a joke, having fun with someone he likes. The expectations are different.

It's not like he's any more available than he was back then – he's not married to Jonathan, but they are in what his PR guys call 'a serious relationship', one that doesn't involve having sex with other people. The last thing they need right now is rumours about infidelity.

He's trying to learn to be more careful. It's…not really working.

\----------------------------------

Adam got back from Australia literally three hours ago and he desperately needs a decent nap, but he's not at the point of his career where blowing off Clive Davis would be acceptable quite yet. Even if he really, really wants to.

(Because, let's be honest, who wants to spend New Year's Eve with that scary old bastard?)

Said scary old bastard's impressive guest list regardless of that universal truth just speaks volumes about the industry, and Adam would think that even if he weren't tired and cranky. The main difference is how much effort he has to put into being Adam Lambert, _always so charming and hilarious and just the right amount of inappropriate_ tonight.

He got here late, did a bunch of quick press interviews outside, and barely an hour later even Kara's giving him her concerned face and asking if he wants some air. Which is probably as good a sign as any that he should take a few minutes.

The further he wanders away from all the noise and colour of the party, the more the mansion starts to look like a bigger scale model of the one from Idol, and isn't that scary insight he didn't need into Clive Davis's psyche.

Before he knows it, a few minutes turns into a lot more, and when Adam picks a random guest room to walk into, it's partly to avoid admitting that he could actually be lost. He doesn't actually intend to nap - but that's what happens, suit jacket still on and everything. After all, the bed's comfortable and he's really tired.

Thankfully, somebody interrupts him in the process of falling asleep by opening the door.

"Sorry, didn't realize the room was occupied - oh. Adam?"

Adam sits up straight, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes.

"Kris? What are you doing here?"

It's too dark to see, but Adam's pretty good at recognising that voice. The bedside lamp turns on when he taps it, flooding the room with soft light, and the first thing he sees is Kris beaming at him from the doorway.

"Here, in this room, interrupting your beauty sleep, or here at this horrible party?"

Adam's face decides to arrange itself into one of his silliest grins without consulting his brain. Not that his brain has any serious objections, really. It's Kris. Silly grins are always appropriate.

"Which do you think? Have I ever bitched you out for a rude awakening or ten?"

"No, you just retaliate," Kris says fondly, stopping at the foot of the bed.

Even in the dim light from the lamp, Adam can tell he's been through his stylist's wrangling tonight. There's no way he picked that skinny tie without prompting. He looks good, if freakishly unchanged from the last time Adam saw him, and the time before that, and so on.

(They've probably already had the conversation about the portrait in Kris's basement at some point. After a while, that many in-jokes tend to blur together a bit.)

He's always been the kind of gorgeous that tends to sneak up on a person, not so much smacking anyone in the face with it but slowly getting under your skin, and being all the more effective for it. Adam didn't need months of living in close quarters to know that. He saw it not long after they met, and knew even then that everybody else would too, given a little more time. Fast forward five years, and here they are.

He pats the bed beside him and barely has time to snatch his hand away before Kris launches himself in vaguely the right direction, careless of his expensive tailored suit. Ten seconds of lazy shuffling around later, Kris sits semi-upright, shoulder bumping Adam's while he tries to get comfortable.

He's warm, but not overwhelmingly so - just enough to be comfortable. Adam doesn't even try to resist the temptation to shift closer. It's more like reflex, anyway. "So? You never answered my question."

"Well, you know, couldn't say no to Clive," Kris says dryly. Up close, he looks about half as tired as Adam feels, which means he's probably feeling about the same. Not that a stranger would be able to tell.

Adam makes a face. "The operative word being 'couldn't'. Wait, where's your boy?"

The change that comes over Kris's face is startling. Bright eyes, sly little smile, like he's got a secret he's dying to tell someone about.

"You mean Jonathan? I'm not making him come to parties, he hates industry crap," he says, all exasperated affection.

Adam does want to talk about that, see how he's holding up with both the press attention and his first post-divorce relationship, but that's not the right opening.

"I thought you'd be in Arkansas."

Kris tenses up. Not much, just enough for Adam to feel it.

"I was, for Christmas. Stayed at home for a couple of days, went to see Katy's parents, had Cale, his Katy and the twins over."

There's more. Adam may be out of practice but there are some things he'll always been able to do, and knowing when there's something on Kris's mind is one of them.

"That doesn't sound too bad. What else happened?"

He can more or less guess what the problem is, but Kris has to talk about it first.

"Honestly, it was a little depressing," Kris says slowly. He takes a moment to find the most comfortable spot for his head to rest on Adam's shoulder, careless of ruining his carefully styled hair, before continuing, pleasant little lilt in his voice like he always gets after coming back from Arkansas. "Pretty much all my old friends have kids. And, you know, I guess five, seven years ago I probably would have expected to have a couple by now too."

"Don't lie, you had the exact number you wanted all figured out."

He regrets the words as soon as they're out of his mouth, but Kris just chuckles. "I totally did. That's just not how things have worked out, I guess. Not that I'm complaining - you know what I mean."

Adam nods. It's not just a convenient phrase in this case – he knows exactly what Kris means. They both made the same deal, all those years ago.

"Anyway. What about you? I see even TMZ thinks you won the break-up with that asshole now."

Adam's grin is nasty and he doesn't even care. "Don't ever get on Brad's bad side, that's all I'll say."

Kris chuckles, low and quiet. "I believe it. And with What's-His-Name - couldn't have happened to a nicer guy. Not that I'm knocking your taste. Um. You know what, forget it, I'm putting down the shovel now," capped off with a long-suffering sigh, and – in the spirit of their friendship - Adam pretends he didn't start smirking as soon as Kris started fumbling his words and blushing bright enough for him to see.

The funniest part is that from what he could tell, Kris had liked Sam and is therefore merely doing the commiserating bitchy friend thing out of solidarity.

"That was adorable. How old are you again?" he says, sounding about half as amused and indulgent as he feels, which is still enough for Kris's face to assemble itself into the beginnings of a pout, complete with big, wounded eyes.

"You suck. And not in the fun way."

Adam laughs, startled and pleased, and brushes a quick kiss against Kris's forehead. It works as appeasement, if he needs to excuse it to anybody. Which he doesn't, not for Kris. Never for Kris.

"Thanks, seriously. I appreciate it. Forget about him, though, who cares? The best revenge is living well, isn't that how it goes?"

The fact that he honestly believes that now, with no hint – okay, very little – of schadenfreude about the way things turned out for Sam, is probably the best outcome possible from that mess. Especially given the timing.

Kris lifts his head from Adam's shoulder, gaze serious and focused. The effect is only ruined a little by the fact that his hair is now completely flat on one side.

"Bet going multi-platinum helped."

Adam grins, just a little bit of edge to it. "Oh yeah. Between that and the tour, I haven't had much time to think about anything else."

"That's good – "

"Your hair's a mess, by the way."

Kris tilts his head, all crooked, slow smile and intent gaze. "So fix it for me. Please?"

He's flirting, but so mildly that he probably hasn't noticed himself doing it.

"Someone's creating a monster. You've been spoiled rotten," Adam says, too fondly for it to be an accusation, and threads his fingers through the fluffy mess that was once carefully styled hair. There's not really much he can do, but at least it'll look less like Kris took a quick nap somewhere.

Kris's eyelashes flutter when Adam rubs his scalp, his whole body relaxing against Adam's when he gets all the way down to the sensitive skin at the top of Kris's neck, massaging away the tension there.

"How are you, though, seriously."

The question doesn't make him tense up again, so there's one good sign.

"Honestly? Last time you asked me that, I really had to think about it. But no, I'm good right now. Just - the next person to ask me an inappropriate question about my sexual relationship is going to get an _answer_ , that's all."

Kris rolls his eyes, but the smirk gives him away – Adam would bet good money that a part of him is itching to make somebody regret asking too many questions. In theory, he approves of that kind of impulse. He's kind of the expert. But in practice, for someone with Kris's image – maybe not such a good idea.

"You enjoy freaking people out. That's not nice, Kristopher."

Kris snorts. " - said the pot to the kettle. Come on."

"I don't freak people out for the sake of it," Adam says, quiet and serious.

The distinction is important. Adam's been trying to have this conversation all year, every single interview about his album, _why such a different sound this time around_ and _is the concept meant to make some sort of statement_ and _what's with the album art_ , and he talked and talked but still feels like he never got to the heart of it.

" - neither do I."

Not that Kris has ever needed to have that explained to him. He gets it. But watching it happen to someone else is very different to having it suddenly apply to you.

"What about your fanbase? You don't need to alienate people."

"What about it?" Kris says, and he's not being deliberately obtuse. Just stubborn, which is possibly worse.

"I know what happens when you suddenly become that kind of news, remember?" He says it lightly, almost like it's a joke, and lets his smile comment on the rest.

Kris grins, sharp enough that he definitely caught everything Adam meant. "Yeah, I know. It's done some funny things to my relationship with Christian radio, but you know, win some, lose some," he shrugs, just casual enough to sound convincing. "Anyway, I'm not that big a deal."

It's Adam's turn to roll his eyes. "Oh, come on – "

Kris shakes his head. "You know it's true. The fuss people are making right now, it's not actually about me."

"You're not – do I need to fluff up your self-esteem again?" Adam says with great, long-suffering exasperation. He doesn't mean it, except where he kind of does.

Kris pokes him in the side with his elbow, very deliberately and with great ceremony, snickering all the while. "My self-esteem is fine."

Adam decides to believe him after considering his tone. LA is great at making people hate themselves, but you have to care first. Kris doesn't, at least not in ways they can get at.

"Okay, fine, how is this not about you?"

Kris is silent for a moment, just thinking. Which apparently involves shifting closer until Adam gets the hint and puts his arm around Kris's waist, pulling him in against his side.

"It's more like…what I represent? You know. You've been doing this a lot longer than I have," he murmurs finally, slow like he's weighing up each word.

Adam does know, even though he's never wanted that and still doesn't. It's always been the most frustrating thing about the press attention, because half of them think he represents some kind of breakthrough and needs to act accordingly, and the other half think he's representative of the worst excesses of pop culture or something.

"So I have. That's why you should listen when I tell you to be careful."

"Believe me, I am. _Never apologize, never explain._ Isn't that the golden rule?"

Adam can't even remember when somebody first said that to him. It was a long, long time ago, and whoever it was, they were dead wrong. He learned that before the end of the first post-Idol year.

"Nope, that's just what everybody wishes they could do. People who actually stick to that tend to be assholes."

Kris laughs, hard enough that Adam can feel him shaking against his chest. "You sound like Jonathan. Ooh, he's going to be confused when I tell him that. You have pretty much nothing in common."

 _Except we apparently share both a type and extremely compromised judgement when it comes to one particular person._

"How's that going, anyway?" he asks, partly out of genuine curiosity, partly because he wants to see Kris's face light up again.

Also partly so he can do his duty as a friend, although he really doesn't want to right now.

Kris tilts his head back so he can grin at Adam, the expression not unlike a particularly satisfied cat right after it polished off a bowl of cream.

"Um, good? Well, weird. Weird but really, really great," he nods, appropriate descriptive finally arrived at. "And, uh - " Adam raises his eyebrows when Kris ducks his head, colour staining his cheekbones. "I can't wait to start touring."

"No, really," Adam deadpans, biting his lip against the laugh that wants to slip out.

The effort's wasted, because Kris takes one look at his face and thumps his fist against Adam's chest, just hard enough for him to feel it, all the while giggling helplessly. "Shut. Up."

Adam doesn't even bother trying not to laugh this time. When he's composed enough to talk again, though, it's about as serious as he gets. "I'm just glad you're doing well."

"I am," Kris says, barely more than a whisper against the fabric of Adam's suit jacket. "Despite everything, maybe, but yeah."

Adam takes a deep breath. Sometimes, being a good friend sucks. "Kris, can I say something? As your friend."

"'Course."

Adam's thankful he has the option of saying this to the top of Kris's head. If he had to do it while staring at the happiness animating Kris's face right now, he might not be able to go through with it.

"You know, if this doesn't work out – " _when_ it doesn't work out, he really means, but even Kris doesn't need that much honesty from him, " – you're going to end up with a dysfunctional band."

Kris looks down at his hands, still balled up into loose fists. "I - I'll risk it. Thanks for, you know, worrying about me."

"Anytime," Adam says, relieved, and meaning it just as much as he ever did.

\----------------------------------

People still don't get how Kris can be friends with Adam. It's not just the part where they have completely different backgrounds, although a lot of it is that. In terms of temperament, personality, favourite past-times, they couldn't be more different.

Or at least that's how it looks from the outside, if you're not paying attention. For Kris, being friends with Adam isn't something he's ever had to think about. One of the best things about their relationship - even back in the Idol days when they had just met - was how easy it was, how both of them seemed to instinctively know where the boundaries were and how far to push in any given situation, when to play it up for the masses and when to dial it down. Whenever things got tricky, they dealt with it together. Like that silly flap over Adam's off-handed comment about Kris in _Rolling Stone_ , which still makes Kris laugh when he thinks about it, even though it feels like something that happened half a lifetime ago.

'Cute' is such a non-threatening word, like he was a wide-eyed 16-year-old fresh out of Arkansas. Like 'bland' is lurking right around the corner. Not that he minds being that, most of the time. It works for him. But he never forgets what it actually does and doesn't mean.

Kris can find a friend attractive without wanting to be in a relationship with them. Same goes for Adam. That's why it was never a big deal.

It didn't matter back then, and it doesn't matter now. He could talk about his 'mancrush' all day, and not scratch the surface of what's really going on. A meaningless little crush is nothing next to how he's always felt about Adam, as soon as they knew each other well enough, and he knows Adam would say the same thing.

When he told the media after _Idol_ that they loved each other - that was real. That's what counts.

It's nice to be reminded of that, every now and then. Kris sits up straighter when the fireworks start going off outside, the digital clock in their hiding spot in the middle of Clive Davis's scary giant mansion ticking over to a new day.

Adam stirs, like he's thinking about getting up but doesn't really want to. "We should rejoin civilization at some point."

"Nah, wait til they start looking for us," Kris shrugs. He's warm and comfortable and he's not into the idea of moving any time soon.

"That should start some interesting rumours," Adam grumbles half-heartedly, the effect more or less cancelled out by the fact that his hand is still resting on Kris's hip.

Kris chuckles, stretching up just far enough to brush a sloppy kiss against the corner of Adam's mouth before settling back down.

"Happy new year."


	3. release me

  
_[2015]_   


  
_Publicist says we're on the 1st page of 3 biggest gossip sites. we should totally spend more time together_

 _Liar. you hate tabloid publicity. how's your boy taking it?_

 _I'm making it up to him. serious about spending more time together btw_

 _Admit it, you just miss my face._

 _I miss yr face :)_

 _Okay, you win. good thing I'm not leaving the country for a while._

  


Adam meets Julien at a horrible party thrown by some of his most pretentious friends, where half the people act like they're too cool for someone like Adam and the other half spend the evening trying to get into his pants.

(And while he's not opposed to the general idea of pretty boys hitting on him, Adam doesn't get off on feeling on he's being graded while having sex. Which means pretty much everybody here is off the menu.)

They get introduced by an incredibly obnoxious example of the latter category, who started hitting on Adam two drinks ago and had to be practically peeled off. Which is admittedly not a good start.

"You two spoilsports can sit in a corner and pretend to be cool kids together. Julien Spector, Adam Lambert. Adam, Julien. I'm going to go have some actual fun now."

Julien gives Obnoxious Twink's retreating back such a casually contemptuous look that Adam can't help but be impressed. There's something artlessly graceful about the way he leans against the wall, looking up at Adam through dark lashes.

"So, Adam Lambert. Any relation to Neil?"

Adam raises his eyebrows – he can't help it, it's not ego. It's just unusual for him to be known as Neil's brother these days, that's all.

When Julien laughs, his eyes crinkle at the corners. It makes him look almost approachable.

"Sorry, no, I'm sort of casual friends with Neil? And he made me promise to do that, if we ever met. I do actually know who you are. You've got a great voice."

"Thank you," Adam says. Maybe it's the amount of alcohol he's had, but he's honestly touched by the sincerity there. Julien doesn't seem like someone who bothers with it often. "So what do you do?"

Julien drains his wine before answering. "I write graphic novels. Or, if I want to sound less pretentious, comic books. Not very glamorous, but at least nobody's watching my every move whenever I go out."

Something in the twist of his mouth makes Adam unaccountably defensive.

"It's not that bad. Actually, I bet I know more about your night than you do about mine," he says lightly, making Julien pause in the act of licking the rim of his glass.

His bright green eyes take in Adam fully for what seems like the first time, alight with amusement and something that could be interest. "Really? Okay, I'll take that bet."

Adam finds himself returning that look, from the tips of Julien's messy hair to his shiny black sneakers.

"Hm. How's this: you dressed down on purpose, just to be obnoxious."

The corners of Julien's mouth turn up at that. He has very neat teeth. "Maybe I did. Anything else?"

"You came with a few friends. One of them has been pining after you all night – tall, with the puppy-dog eyes? And you hadn't noticed until I said it just now."

Julien whistles. "I'm impressed. You have been paying attention. What did I do to deserve that?"

 _You have very pretty eyes._

He does, but Adam's not giving that one up for free, and Julien doesn't seem to be the type who needs his ego stroked by strangers.

"You don't have to answer that, by the way. It's my turn, after all. Well, let's see. One, you were checking Aiden out earlier," Julien says with a dismissive wave in Obnoxious Twink's vague direction, "then he opened his mouth and you discovered the error of your ways. Two, you don't even want to be here. This party is far too boring and pretentious for your tastes. And – for bonus points – " he pauses dramatically, leaning forward to snatch Adam's loosely-held wine glass and depositing it on the counter beside him, "you're certainly not bored right now."

They're close enough to touch. Adam could lean down and fist his hands in Julien's t-shirt, maybe bite at the corners of that smirk. No one would care, and –

\- it would probably be on the front page of a few gossip sites in two hours flat.

In the end, Julien makes his decision for him.

"My car's parked outside."

Adam raises an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking me to – "

"I'm asking if you want to leave this frankly awful party," Julien says, not bothering to keep his voice down. "Extras optional."

Maybe if they'd met somewhere else Adam would be put off by Julien's personality. There's something sharp about him that's both fun and potentially very exhausting. But at this party his complete and utter lack of filter is like finding water in a desert. He's unrelentingly real, and frankly Adam's starving for that these days.

And it's been long enough since Sam.

"Sure, why not?"

It's about time he started living up to his image again.

  
* * *

  
Neil laughs his ass off when Adam tells him.

"Good fucking luck. That man is to commitment what you are to restraint."

Adam laughs, maybe a little too fast. "I have no idea what you mean. And who said anything about commitment?"

"Oh no, I know that voice. You're intrigued. Me telling you that was _not_ meant to be a challenge, dammit."

"It's not your fault I took it as one, right?" Adam says, already plotting his next plan of attack.

  


> Puppet Theatre is a comic book series written by Julien Spector, with art by Spector and various other guest artists.
> 
> The story follows Adrian Diamond, a disillusioned superhero who leaves his idyllic post-retirement life when rumours surface of the return of his long-lost lover and nemesis Black Phoenix to the supervillain trade. Readers are gradually introduced to the remnants of Diamond's former lifestyle as he attempts to pursue Black Phoenix while resisting calls to return to being a superhero full-time.
> 
> By turns darkly comedic and unrelentingly grim, it is that rare pastiche on the superhero genre which also manages to stand up as a story in its own right. Diamond's romance with Regina (aka Black Phoenix) provides the often bleak narrative with a touch of warmth and heart. You really do believe that their dysfunctional love for each other could have started an inter-galactic war, and that it's worth everything they go through as the series progresses.

  
They're sitting in a corner booth in the tiniest Greek restaurant Adam's ever seen, because an hour ago Julien called out of the blue.

 _"So I told my friend Anne about dating Adam Lambert, and she said I was being an asshole. Let's go out for dinner."_

Adam had vague plans for the night with a few friends, but he was hardly going to say no to an offer like that. At least with Julien, he's never, ever bored.

Julien had insisted on driving and they parked right outside, no handlers, no security. It's kind of nice. Adam let him order delicious, diet-destroying moussaka for both of them in Greek with amused tolerance, only raising his eyebrows when Julien explained almost sheepishly that his Greek accent was atrocious, but –

 _"Not quite as bad as when you try to pronounce French," he'd said, in the kind of tone a normal person would use to say 'we should have acrobatic sex right now'._

His smile only sharpens when Adam tugs him closer with a hand around his slender wrist, and when he tilts his head up, opening easily for the kiss, Adam looking for and finding the heady taste of the red wine they'd been polishing off far too quickly in his warm mouth.

Somehow, they always get into these situations in public. Adam's tempted to place all the blame on Julien's endless capacity for being as infuriating as he is attractive. Which is very.

Especially when his bottom lip is red and swollen from when Adam bit at it, and he's just a little flustered and off-balance, his eyes glazed over and hair a mess when Adam finally manages to make himself untangle his fingers from the soft strands.

"Can't take you anywhere," Julien says breathlessly. "Now Stelios's staring at us."

Adam laughs. "At least try to sound like you care."

"That would take far too much effort. So - I got out of the dating habit back in high school. Are we doing it right?"

His tone is either irreverent trying to be serious or the other way around. It's somehow discomforting, making Adam itch under the skin. "You are not that socially awkward. Don't pretend, it's not cute."

For some reason, that puts the smirk back on Julien's face. "I'm serious. Dreams, hopes, aspirations?"

Adam has to suppress a mental shudder. "How about you tell me what happens to the Lady in Red after book 3?"

He says it for the reaction, and the way Julien's eyes widen in shock is - really satisfying. Exactly what he was after.

"You read my comic?" he says, soft and wondering and surprised.

"Yep. Only the first three volumes, but that's just what Lane could find on short notice."

Adam hadn't really known what to expect. The bleak, angry, painfully funny stuff, sure. But -

Julien leans forward, elbows on the table, the remains of his meal forgotten. There's a look in his eyes that Adam's never seen before. "Mmm. Got any insights for me?"

"You're a closet romantic."

\- sometimes, people really can surprise you.

> We do a little research into the tall, dark and handsome musician who turned Kris Allen onto boys and find out what makes him so special.

The album drops in a week and Kris is officially sick of questions which are either obliquely or directly about him fucking his guitarist. Or vice versa. At first, it had been at least a little funny, especially when the interviewers were awkward about it, but now it's just a distraction he doesn't really want or need. And he'd already promised to talk about Jonathan as little as possible to minimize the spotlight on him, because that crap makes him seriously uncomfortable. Not that Kris blames him.

It can't be fun when a person suddenly becomes a story for reasons that have nothing to do with who they are and everything to do with who they're having sex with, and then somehow their entire life up til now is laid open to scrutiny and criticism. Jonathan is a great musician, and possibly the sweetest guy Kris's ever met underneath the layers of reserve, but kind of socially clueless in a major way. He's never been mixed up with anyone famous before. So – that's been rough.

They're working through it. He's thoughtful and funny and thinks the world of Kris, so it's worth the effort. They're not at the curtain shopping and declarations of love stage, but that kind of thing takes time, anyway. Kris isn't the kind of asshole who'd date a person and not mean it. He always means it.

  
* * *

  
They're backstage at an acoustic show, waiting to get started. Jonathan's been kind of quiet all day, and while Kris doesn't mind silence, with Jonathan he can always tell when there are words being swallowed back.

His body is as tense as a guitar string against Kris's at each point of contact. It's only when Kris makes an unhappy noise and burrows closer into Jonathan's side that some of it unravels.

"Talk."

Jonathan's arm settles across Kris's shoulder, pulling him in. His breath puffs out against Kris's ear, warm and a little ticklish.

"Last night, my own sister called to tell me I was an evil home-wrecker, and how could I corrupt someone so wholesome, et cetera."

Kris has to fight the urge to laugh. Obviously it's not very funny from Jonathan's point of view, but –

"She does realize we met after I got divorced, right?"

Jonathan's fingers curl in against Kris's shoulder. His body is very, very still. "Not officially."

"But she knows that now?" Kris says carefully.

"Don't worry about it - that's far from the worst thing she's ever accused me of," Jonathan replies, and Kris squirms free until he can look up at Jonathan's face, because he knows the rueful smile that goes along with that deadpan voice, and it's one of his favourites. "I'm just not sure how I feel about the state of my public reputation right now."

Kris could tell him how little that matters, but he's not a liar.

"I'm sorry."

Jonathan shakes his head, hard, like he's trying to dislodge the thought. "It's not your fault some people really don't like me."

" _I_ like you," Kris says, and just in case he's not being clear about how much, he climbs into Jonathan's lap, cupping his face in both hands once he's happily settled.

Jonathan's hands come to rest on his hips, like he's developed a particularly useful reflex for it. Just firm enough to be grounding, not quite hard enough to bruise.

Not quite – Kris shifts until Jonathan's eyes go dark and he gets the hint. Suddenly that grip is just right. He could move if he wanted to. But. Well.

Kris doesn't even try to suppress his happy sigh. He's old enough to own his kinks.

Plus, the look on Jonathan's face is exactly what Kris had spent months working towards, until he felt safe enough to be that open and vulnerable. Forget talking about feelings, sometimes he just wants to see it. The one smile, affection edged with want, that's just for him.

And - there it is. "This may shock you, but I like you too."

There's something like self-mockery in his tone, though, and that's just unacceptable.

Kris presses their foreheads together, whispering his next words into the small space between them. "That's all that matters. Okay?"

Instead of an answer, he gets Jonathan's mouth on his, the sweetly demanding swipe of his tongue across Kris's bottom lip turning into something more urgent when Kris opens for him without hesitation.

It's not the answer he was looking for, but he'll take it. For now.

  


> Q: There are a couple of songs on here that definitely have that bluesy feel to them. How did that come about?  
> A: I think we decided early on - without wanting to be restricted to one genre or anything - that we wanted _Love Never Fails_ to have that sort of feel to it.
> 
> Q: Speaking of genre, this is probably your most explicitly Christian record to date.  
> A: Do you think so? There are a couple of songs about that, but you can probably read them differently. It's not – I didn't set out to make a statement or anything.

  
That sounds good, but it's not what happened. This is:

Kris's relationship with Brian is actually pretty good, for a given value of 'good' that means 'as compared to some of the horror stories he's heard about labels and artists'. There's more shouting than he'd like, but they can usually find some middle ground by the end of any heated argument.

He knows how to pick his battles, and they know when he can't be moved.

" - cause it feels right. This is what will work and I know what works," he says to Brian across the conference table, and doesn't flinch under the incredulous stare he gets in return. "Come on, you owe me this one. I let you leave so much depressing crap off the album."

"Because it was depressing crap. Don't pretend those were good songs."

"Some of them were good," Kris says quietly.

Brian waves a hand like he's trying to swat an irritating insect. "Good and radio-ready aren't the same thing. You weren't born yesterday, stop acting like you don't know how this goes."

He does know. That's why he waited until now to say it.

"We kept the divorce a secret for months. Because you asked."

That wasn't the only reason, of course. But for this conversation, it's the most important.

Brian's baleful stare breaks off and he gives a short, barking laugh, mostly directed at his assistant. "Told you we shouldn't teach these reality TV cast-off kids how to look after themselves."

  
* * *

  
Adam laughs outright when Kris tells him about the two hour argument over the album title, which is when he gets his advance copy by courier and calls Kris to thank him.

"What'd you think?"

"You already know how I feel about the songs, but Kris - making half a Christian album months after coming out? I don't know if anyone can top that for the sheer 'pigeonhole me now, bitch' audacity. How'd you even get Jive on board?"

He sounds admiring, in a way that makes Kris feel flattered and warm inside.

"First of all, 'it's not a Christian album'. Heh. And by cashing in every concession I ever made and then some more. It's worth it, right?"

"I'd say, yeah," Adam says firmly, no hint of hesitation. "Just out of curiosity, what was the original concept? I know you had a big idea this time around…"

How to explain.

"You know I do a Jeff Buckley cover now?"

"Think I've seen a video. You do an awesome job."

"You know, that's what I wanted to do with this album. Make music that takes me out of my head like that. I mean – not comparing myself to him or anything, it's just - "

" – how it makes you feel."

"Yeah."

Exactly that.

\----------------------------------

The problem at hand for Adam, it turns out, is not so much dating Julien. They go out, they have athletic sex in a number of increasingly odd places, they even hold hands in public sometimes. So that part's fine. It's more that Julien has some fairly specific ideas about what he wants out of a relationship. He won't spend a cent of Adam's money, but in his own way he's as high maintenance as any of Adam's previous boyfriends. For someone who's not around much outside of quality time well spent discovering just how far a 'will try anything once' attitude stretches – pretty damn far, as it turns out – he's also really very good at causing trouble.

Like the time they made out at a Barnes and Noble midway through an argument about Bowie and decided to just keep going for the next 5 minutes when the cameraphones came out. Admittedly that was half Adam's fault, but he's convinced Julien's wrong opinions on glam rock were to blame for starting that particular incident.

And there's Julien's ongoing war with his publicist Az, which started when he responded to a question from a TMZ guy with "yes, I hypnotised Adam Lambert and made him my sex slave. It's going great, thanks for asking!" and went on from there.

All in all, it's the kind of fun he hasn't had in years. Adam finds himself grinning from ear to ear as he dials Kris's number, having given himself a break from rehearsal for an awards show performance while his manager argues with the director.

(More accurately, he's hiding in a closet to avoid getting dragged into the shouting match, but who's counting?)

Kris picks up after three rings.

"Lane tried to tell me I couldn't have fire on live television," Adam says huffily.

"You can totally have fire on live television. Just be prepared for your entire entourage to hate you. Including the lawyers."

"Killjoy."

Kris laughs, low and amused. "That's me, I'm a pro at it. Now spill."

"Spill what?"

"New boyfriend, duh. I read TMZ."

Religiously, the last time Adam checked. Which is just unhealthy.

"Anybody ever told you to get that checked out?"

"Jonathan looks at me like I'm nuts every second day or so. I think that's his way of showing affection."

"Other people do that by, you know, being affectionate," Adam says, but there's no heat in it. He's just teasing.

"Don't change the topic. Come on, spill."

Adam is silent for a moment, just thinking. "He – hm. Treats me like a person? This is going to sound horribly self-involved, but I can't remember the last time I met someone new who took one look at me and did that."

Kris makes a soft sound of agreement, prompting him for more without words.

"He's not my type at all, but I don't know, it's just working. Even if he is being a complete weirdo about moving in with me."

"I'm happy for you, man. And, I'm not gonna lie, kind of curious."

If Adam's honest, he's not the only one. In his head, he can't quite make Julien and Kris exist in the same room without violating some sort of universal rule, like that amount of concentrated sincerity and cynicism meeting would create a black hole.

"You'd like him, I think. He'd make you laugh. Probably by mocking you, but you do enjoy that kind of thing."

"What can I say, you know me too well," Kris says, sounding pleased. "We'll see at that thing you're having Thursday, I guess."

"So you are coming. I see how it is. I invite you, it's 'I'm busy', but as soon as there's a novelty…"

"Shut up, you know what my schedule is like. Thursday night, you said?

"I did. Bring a friend."

\----------------------------------

Adam throws great parties, and it's not as if Kris can't have a few drinks, dance a bit (life's too short to worry about making a complete fool of yourself) and just have a good time like everybody else. Today of all days, though, he wants to be able to hold a conversation without straining his voice, and the music inside is a little – okay, a lot – loud for that.

So sue him, he's curious about the boyfriend. It's all Adam's fault for being all vague and secretive.

Speaking of Adam -

"Kris! You made it!"

Kris considers flailing a bit - just for show - when Adam suddenly appears from the side and picks him up in a bear hug. But Adam smells really nice and feels solid and in the end he just gives up and clings on. Carefully.

"You're spiky," he says. Just close enough to the shell of Adam's ear that he's not shouting to be heard.

The jacket is less extravagant than most of the ones Kris's seen him wear on tour, but there's still a lot of gleaming metal and straps going on. Adam's hair is longer, enough for a red-streaked lock to fall in his eyes when he tilts his head down, and his smile for Kris is bright enough to light up the strobe-lit hall of his ridiculous mansion.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful," Adam says wryly, setting Kris down and looking around him. "Where's Jonathan?"

Kris grins. "Off being music snobs with Andrew. And no, that's not a euphemism."

Actually, Jonathan had offered to come along just because he wanted to keep Kris company, which was so sweet Kris spent a minute fighting the urge to stay home for the night. But 1) he'd promised Adam, and 2) they probably needed some time off from each other. Especially since there was clearly something bothering Jonathan, and he either didn't want to or wasn't ready to say anything to Kris.

Which is fine. Kris just hates the waiting.

Adam raises his eyebrows. "Should I be taking that personally?"

"Definitely not," Kris says firmly. He doesn't feel like explaining any further, though. It's not really the place or time. "Come on, introduce me. Then you can run around being a good host without me hogging you."

Adam gives him a quick once-over, and then a slower sweep, head to toe. "For some inexplicable reason I'm thinking you're not going to lack for people to talk to."

Some people stare in a way that makes the person being looked at feel small and pathetic. Adam's gaze has always done the opposite for Kris, making him feel secure and comfortable and wanted in the best way.

Kris sticks his thumbs in his belt loops, palms flat against the soft material of the black jeans that are sometimes his idea of dressing up. The movement pulls the collar of his button-up shirt open wider, and he fights down the last remnants of that old urge to pull it closed. It's not as if he's not used to it.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. And someone's coming to take you away, so just point me to the right corner."

"Oh for God's sake – " Adam gives the very glittery guy bearing down on him a look of intense irritation for an instant, so quickly that anybody who doesn't know what to look for would have missed it. " - anyway, sorry, Julien's hiding near that potted plant you gave me two years ago, see how big it's gotten?"

"It's still alive? Wow, I see it, it's huge."

Not big enough to hide the small group of people standing behind it from Kris's vantage point, but it does look very healthy.

He looks back just in time to catch Adam's best indignant face. "What do you mean 'it's still alive', I take great care of my house plants."

"Uh huh. Glitter dude, two o'clock. Go entertain, superstar."

"I'll talk to you later, okay?" Adam says, firm like he wants to make it a promise.

Kris flashes a quick smile before leaving him to the tender mercies of Glitter Dude. "Of course. I'll find you."

  
* * *

  
The music changes just before Kris reaches the small huddle Adam had pointed him to, and he has to stop and just laugh helplessly when he recognises the song. Freaking Adam, anyway. _Break Me Down_ is not meant for dance remixes. The thumping beat dilutes the emotion in the lyrics and delivery, but he's pleasantly surprised at how well the melody holds up. It actually sounds like something people would dance to.

Maybe he should ask for a copy and send it to Cale as part of some sort of mix for his kids, just tucked in amidst the recordings of Kris singing bits and pieces of lullabies. It'll be a fitting next step in their long-distance prank war.

Adam's NEW FLAME! (if you read the tabloids, and, well, Kris gets bored at airports) Julien is the only person Kris's seen in jeans and a t-shirt at this entire party. In his little group of shiny, dressed up people he stands out like a sore thumb. Not that he seems to notice or care.

One of the (many) benefits of looking small and harmless is being able to insert himself into a conversation and just be accepted as part of the scenery. Or maybe it's because everyone is looking at Julien, and not all of them with friendly intent, if Kris is any judge.

For example.

"Come on, Julien. You can spill now or after the tequila shots. Your call." The words are delivered in a friendly, cajoling tone by the tall blond next to Julien, but the way he's staring is kind of unnerving.

"How about never?" Julien says, a little too fast to sound casual. The glass he's clutching like a lifeline is almost empty.

Everyone but Kris laughs, and Julien takes the opportunity to drain his drink.

The slight, dark-haired, over-dressed guy standing next to Kris tugs at Julien's arm, completely oblivious to the death glare he gets in response. "Hey, didn't I introduce you to Adam? I'm still waiting for my thanks."

"You'll be waiting a long time, Aiden," Julien laughs, sharp and dismissive. Then he seems to notice Kris's existence, eyebrows climbing into his hairline as he looks him over. "Who's your friend?"

Kris cuts in before Aiden can start talking. "I'm a friend of Adam's. Actually, can we talk somewhere quieter?"

Julien's wary look cracks into a smirk when Kris gestures to the patio doors. "After you. Sorry, guys, gotta go."

"Hey, wait – " Aiden says, but Kris is already slipping away, and Aiden's next words are thankfully increasingly muffled by the music. "I'll get you to talk, Spector - "

"Not if I kill him in his sleep first," Julien mutters, not particularly quietly as they reach the doorway.

Kris snickers. "Not having a good time?"

"Yes, because I enjoy being interrogated about my sex life," Julien says, deadpan. "Thanks, by the way."

Kris grins. "What for? I just don't like straining to hear people over loud music. Okay if we sit out here?"

Adam's patio does feature outdoor furniture, and while the whole set looks cool the chairs come off like a closer cousin to some kind of kinky torture device than anything meant to be sat on comfortably. On the other hand, it's a nice night and Kris's clothes will probably forgive him for sitting on the nice, clean stone-paved floor with his back to the wall.

Julien doesn't hesitate before following suit, even though his jeans look really expensive, which is definitely a good start in Kris's book. Five years in LA has taught him that people who don't worry about ruining their nice clothes are generally a good time.

"Sure, it's nice out. As long as those idiots don't follow us out here, we're fine. I didn't catch your name?"

That was totally deliberate. For some inexplicable reason, sometimes people who know Adam tend to act funny around Kris once they realize who he is.

"Like I said, I'm a friend of Adam's." He does a cheesy little wave to go with it.

"You're adorable," Julien says, in a tone that manages to be both sincere and a little condescending. "And not the first friend of Adam's who wanted to talk to me tonight, by the way."

Kris snorts. "I bet. I'm not that kind of friend, though."

"Oh? What could you possibly mean by that?" Julien says, eyebrows raised.

He doesn't mean to get flustered under that intense stare, but somehow it happens anyway.

"I didn't – I just meant – me and Adam, we're not like that. It's a little different."

Julien settles back against the wall, chuckling. "Aw, blushing, how cute. Could you be more obvious?"

And, see -

Kris has had this rule ever since his first few trips overseas. It's like this: trying to change other people's worldviews isn't always right. Sometimes it's downright rude, and it's better to try and understand and meet them halfway. That's why he usually tries to be exactly the person a stranger might expect.

And, okay, sometimes just for kicks. But there are occasions when it's better to be surprising.

"I don't believe in being anything else," he says finally, smiling sweet and harmless, no trace of sarcasm in his voice.

That finally gives Julien pause. His eyes sweep over Kris, assessing, and _now_ he's being taken seriously. "What's your name?"

Kris holds out his hand with a grin. "Hi, I'm Kris."

Julien takes it. He has these long, elegant looking fingers, the pen calluses only apparent when Kris feels them against his skin, and a strong handshake.

It only clicks when they're both drawing back to lean against the wall again. Not that Kris was waiting for it or anything.

"Wait, Kris Allen?"

"That's me."

The physical distance between them doesn't change, but there's a new guardedness in the way Julien looks at him. And _that's_ why Kris waited to say something.

"Why, what have you heard about me? Please assume anything bad to be a vicious lie."

Julien chuckles, leaning his head back against the wall. "I've been very reliably informed that out of Adam's exes you're by far the scariest."

 _Ouch. On any number of levels, even._

Kris doesn't let his smile falter. "That's because I'm not an ex. But that person's wrong anyway - Brad's definitely the scariest."

"I haven't met him yet," Julien says breezily. "Looking forward to it, though."

"You know what, I am too," Kris replies, biting his lip against the smirk that wants to creep onto his face.

Brad works best without forewarning.

Julien just looks at him for a moment before breaking into the smallest of smiles. He's very – striking is probably the word most people would use – when still. Much easier to look at with emotion animating his features. "But you, Kris Allen. You're not what I expected."

He gets that a lot. But really -

"Be honest, you know nothing about me."

"That's not – " Julien's eyes narrow, then he gestures broadly in a way probably meant to encompass the party still going on inside. "Wait, that fucked up stalker song, that's you, right?"

Kris raises his eyebrows. Sure, people might say that, but usually not to his face. " _Break me down, leave me open…_ That's the one you're thinking of? It's totally not a stalker song. How you do even know it, anyway?"

"I - heard it at one of the bars I go to," Julien says slowly, sounding surprised at his own words.

Again with the surprise. Kris sighs. "Is it really so weird that somewhere you hang out plays my music?"

"Frankly – you don't mind me being candid, do you? Yes. They play Adam sometimes too, but I always thought he got away from the reality show stigma more easily than most of you guys."

He's not trying to start anything, just taking Kris's question at face value. Which is kind of refreshing, actually, even if he's wrong.

"I'm not sure the reality show thing matters much these days," he says carefully.

Julie's laugh is probably shooting for dismissive, but it comes out kind of bleak. "Oh, trust me, it matters. Your roots always matter." He shakes his head, like he's trying to dislodge an unpleasant thought, and turns his bright eyes on Kris. "So tell me about yours, Kris Allen."

Kris just about stops himself from dragging a hand through his carefully messed up hair. Brushing non-existent dust off the back of his jeans isn't quite as satisfying, but it'll have to do.

"If we're going to talk about Idol, I need a drink. Do you want anything?"

Julien shrugs. "Yeah, whatever you feel like getting. I need to be a lot more drunk than I am."

"Pretty sure we can manage that."

  
* * *

  
It's stiflingly warm inside now that they're actually playing music people can dance to. Kris has to get very familiar with several strangers in order to squeeze his way over to the bar, and while he doesn't mind there's always the possibility that the other person might.

(Okay, very minor possibility considering the setting. But still.)

"Careful there," the tall, slender guy minding the bar says when he nearly runs into Kris, laughter in his voice. "Now, what's your poison?"

"I don't know. Something light and sweet? Surprise me," Kris says, smiling up through his lashes. The lingering look he gets in return is all kinds of flattering, even if he honestly hadn't been angling for it. "Oh, and one of those absinthe things, what are they called? Death in the Afternoon, right – for my friend."

As a very hung-over Ryland Steen once said, never, ever let Kris pick your drink.

  
* * *

  
Julien laughs when Kris hands him his glass. "Really? Oh, you're a sneaky little bastard. What did you get?"

"No idea. Tastes like cherries. Or somebody's idea of cherries." Kris makes a face. "What were we talking about?"

"I believe we were about to commiserate on the subject of selling your soul for commercial success. On which note, hang on," Julien says, and wow, that's the first time Kris's seen anyone drink absinthe that fast.

He waits for Julien to put his glass down first before replying. It's only polite. "Never sold my soul for anything. I can't see you doing it either."

Julien sighs dramatically. "Aw, thanks. Unfortunately, all my old artist friends think I'm a total sell-out."

He says it like it's a joke, and maybe it would be if he were sober. Right now, not so much. Kris briefly feels like he's taking advantage. But it's not like the conversation would be nearly this interesting if they were both sober.

(If anyone is a lightweight around here, it's Kris. So there.)

Kris pats Julien's elbow cautiously. When Julien doesn't flinch or object, he leaves his hand there. The guy's bony, but just the right amount of warm. "You're doing what you want, right? How can you call that selling out?"

"Because I ditched my principles and got myself a nice shiny deal with a major publisher," Julien says, quieter now, staring up at the starless LA night. His drink is really emptying very fast. "Can you ever build anything real if that's your starting point?"

"I think so. It's real if you think it's real. But I would say that."

When Kris looks up, Julien's staring at him, eyes glittering. "You should see the stuff I used to draw. That was real. It made a statement. It actually meant something. I - "

Kris rests his chin on his linked fingers, watching the way Julien's face lights up when he talks, and doesn't look away when Julien stops mid-rant to stare at him. "Oh my God, put the puppy dog eyes away. You could hurt someone with those."

Kris looks down and away, teeth worrying at his lower lip to hide the smile that wants to break out. "What? I just like hearing you talk."

One of the most useful things he's learnt in LA: if he acts like he's one hundred percent sincere about something, it'll at least give other people pause.

Julien gives Kris a look of deep suspicion. "Why are we even talking about this, anyway?"

"Because if you were inside you'd be getting interrogated about Adam? I'm not gonna ask about that."

"No, that's not what you wanted to know." There's something that almost looks like fondness in Julien's gaze. "But here's the real question - did I pass?"

Kris pats his elbow again. The grin taking over his face this time feels inevitable. "I think so."

  
* * *

  
Kris offers to get them both another drink, but for some strange reason Julien doesn't let him.

"I didn't know he was going to be like that," Julien says, out of the blue. Neither of them need to be any more specific than that.

"No, people never do. He's very sweet, really," Kris grins. "And completely crazy, but I mean that in a good way."

"To be honest with you – " Julien frowns. "Why am I being honest with you?"

Kris waves an arm lazily. "I have this - thing? People tell me stuff. Feel free to keep going."

"Right. To be honest with you - and by the way, I'm going to blame this entire conversation on the absinthe tomorrow morning - it's been a little frightening, getting to know him this fast."

"Falling in love can be like that."

Julien looks appalled for the two seconds before he catches on. "You said that just to see my face, didn't you."

"Only a little bit. I kind of meant it, you know. It's easy to fall for Adam. You just gotta be ready for what comes after that," Kris says with long-suffering wisdom, trying and failing to keep a smirk off his face.

For some reason, Julien clams up after that. It is pretty late, though, so Kris excuses himself to go back inside once he finishes his drink.

"See you later, princess," Julien says with a smile and a little wave.

Kris laughs harder than he has in ages.

  
* * *

  
There aren't a lot of faces Kris knows when he looks around, but then a lot of those guys – Cassidy, Brad, Alisan, Adam's old crowd – are pretty busy these days. Or so Adam had told him the last time he was at one of these things. He spots Danielle across the room and is just about to say hi (hopefully she still remembers him, although it's been a while) when Adam's hand lands on his shoulder.

Adam's a little unsteady on his feet, leaning into Kris's side. Even under the dim lighting, his pupils look dilated, the make-up around his eyes and mouth smudged.

Kris giggles into the leathery material of Adam's jacket, slinging an arm around his neck to make him bend down further. Up close, the shell of Adam's ear looks oddly delicate.

"Your new boyfriend is grumpy," he whispers conspiratorially.

Kris might be a little bit tipsy. Not as tipsy as Adam, though.

"Yes, but have you seen how hot he is?" he replies, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

Kris hums thoughtfully. "I think the temper is part of why, actually."

"Sure - wait, you're attracted to my boyfriend?"

Kris widens his eyes. "Just saying. I like him. He's hilarious."

It's true. Julien seems smart and funny and doesn't take any bullshit, which makes him something like the perfect fit for Adam. Kris doesn't really get Julien's take on relationships, or at least what he's heard of it from Adam, but that's not a surprise – not that much in common between guys who get married at 23 and commitment-phobes who have trouble setting foot inside their boyfriend's house.

(He knows he's got some warped ideas about relationships himself. Having been in the same one since he was 15 did that.)

If he had any right to have an opinion on that, it might be a problem. As it is, he just hopes Julien and Adam can work out some kind of compromise.

Adam gives him a weird look he can't quite decipher and hugs him closer. "Tommy says – he says Julien's going to break my heart. Because I'm a novelty or something – he was drunk, I couldn't really follow the logic and I didn't want to talk about it sober."

"Tommy's just being protective. It's nice, I'm glad you've got someone for that. If only he put out," Kris adds off-handedly, just for the reaction.

Adam doesn't even make an attempt at a good scandalized face, which is just disappointing. "Kristopher! Tommy is straight. I think I've told you this before."

"Hey, all I have is your word. But I'm glad you've got someone for, you know, services Tommy can't render."

He suspects that he'll regret saying some of this tomorrow. But – tomorrow. Far away right now. And it makes Adam laugh, so whatever.

"Classy. I'll have you know Julien does a lot more than that."

"I bet. No, honestly, it's good. I can imagine you guys together." At the look on Adam's face, he hastily adds, "not like that," trying not to blush and failing utterly.

Adam laughs, hard enough that Kris can feel it where they're touching, only stopping to press a quick kiss against Kris's forehead.

"I'm glad you came."

"Me too."


	4. your love alone is not enough

>   
> _Exclusive video: Kris Allen confronts protesters before San Jose concert_
> 
> ...Allen had to be held back from the small group representing Westboro Baptist Church, who held up signs and shouted homophobic abuse as he arrived with his boyfriend Jonathan O'Hara...
> 
> When quizzed about how he reconciled his faith with his sexuality in an interview two weeks ago, the singer-songwriter had stated that as far as he was concerned, there was no conflict to speak of, and blamed "some Christians, who aren't very open-minded" for creating the perception that there was any incompatibility at all.

They play _Love Never Fails_ for the first time that night, even though they hadn't been planning to include it. It's fine, they've already rehearsed it to death, and Kris doesn't believe in set lists anyway.

During Andrew's guitar solo Kris ambles over to Jonathan's side of the stage. He spends the rest of the song leaning against Jonathan, enjoying the warmth and solidarity of his presence and singing with his head tipped back.

 _…and you know that love never fails…_

His voice almost cracks on the final high note. It's not something he can control or fix by that point - he's far too into it. The song's carrying him instead of the other way around, and that hasn't happened for a while.

When he's fully back in control of all his faculties, he's on his knees facing a crowd full of silent, upturned faces, still shaking a little with adrenaline.

There's another beat of silence. Then the eruption of noise.

  
* * *

  
Kris hadn't been lying to Adam. As far as he's concerned, not much has changed. He's still not reading most of the press about himself, positive or negative, and people are usually civilized enough to not shout abuse at his face.

Usually. Yeah, he's a dumbass for letting the freaking Fred Phelps people get to him. He should have remembered that they were just a bunch of assholes with too much free time, bad ideas and wrong opinions. But -

"Why did you let them get to you like that?" Jonathan says, worry lines etched into his face, as Kris throws himself down on the couch next to him.

"They always get to me," Kris says heatedly. "How awful is it that these frauds are the Christians who make the news? It makes me so mad. I just snapped faster this time."

Jonathan's fingers on his cheek makes him jump, which is the kind of guilty tell he really could do without. "You don't have to lie to me."

"I'm not lying."

Not really.

"Then what are you not saying?"

 _Crap. That's the problem when they start getting to know you._

Kris's fingers dig in to Jonathan's side, probably painfully, but he doesn't even flinch. Not like he had earlier. "They really upset you."

Jonathan sighs, voice soft like he's embarrassed. "It was that obvious, huh."

"Not really. But I could tell."

He could tell, and it made him angry enough to be irrational. He's not proud of it, but there you are.

"…maybe confrontation's not the best way to deal with those idiots."

Kris opens his mouth, ready to argue, but the defeated look on Jonathan's face makes him pause. In a screwed up way, he put that look there.

That's not a good thought. He's up and pacing before he realizes it, eyes fixed on the soft white carpet of their hotel room.

Kris more or less knew what to expect when he came out, and made his peace with the potential consequences right then. While Jonathan had been okay with it in theory, it's a long way from the idea to having unpleasant things yelled at you in person.

"I'm sorry. Not about what I did with the protesters. But what we do on stage, in public – I should ask you first."

"It's okay. If I can't handle being public, then what am I doing with someone famous?" Jonathan says. There's far too much self-mockery in his tone.

"Not that famous," Kris says with a quick, forced laugh. "And you're handling it fine."

"I…I don't know. How long I can do this for."

Kris freezes. It would probably help this conversation if he could turn around and look Jonathan in the eye, but that's not happening right now. A part of him doesn't want to know.

Not looking at Jonathan makes the next part easier.

"Is it horrible of me to ask you to keep trying?"

Kris can be convincing when he has to be. Even if he has to force each word out of his mouth.

"I'll try. For you."

It takes Kris two tries to unclench his hands. "I'm sorry you have to go through all this crap because of me."

"No, that's not - Kris. That's not what I meant." Jonathan always walks so softly on thick carpeting, like he's afraid of leaving indents. "Listen, since we met, it's been - crazy. Nothing like I thought it was going to be. I'm kind of lost right now, honestly. It's weird, you know, to feel yourself changing and not know what you're going to be like in the end. But being with you - that part still makes sense." Then he's pulling Kris back against him, gently but firmly, and Kris can only melt gratefully against his reassuring warmth. This – this is worth the battle.

"Even if it's kind of scary having no self-control," Jonathan continues in an undertone, lips brushing Kris's ear on their way to trail light kisses down the back of his neck.

Kris exhales on a shudder. "Self-control is overrated."

He's won this round. And the way Jonathan's looking at him when he finally gets up the courage to turn around only confirms it. Kris reaches out to cup his cheeks, grinning at the by-now familiar feel of day-old stubble against his palms. Looks up into slightly glazed grey eyes, utterly focused on him, and –

Thinks about what he'd do to keep this.

"You know, I really don't care what anyone else thinks. The album can sell 10 copies, whatever. But - "

"Don't be stupid, I'm going to buy 15," Jonathan says fiercely.

Kris grins, stretching up to press their foreheads together. "It'll be the least cool music purchase you've ever made, am I right?"

"I don't care," Jonathan whispers against his mouth.

"See, that's the spirit."

\----------------------------------

It happens when Adam asks Julien to attend an event with him, not one of the really big and flashy ones, just something that takes up room in the LA events calendar.

"No."

"Seriously?"

Julien actually flinches back. When he speaks again, it's in a soft voice Adam's never heard before. "Yeah. I promise I'm not being an asshole like usual. I really can't go."

"Can't, or don't want to?" Adam says, but there's no heat in it.

The problem with a vulnerable, human Julien is that he's really convincing at it, precisely because he's usually nothing of the kind. It's only been a few months, but Adam's already conditioned to respond to these rare, small moments with equal sincerity.

"Both. I – you probably don't know, when I started out, I used to get really bad write-ups in the comics press. Not even for being an asshole – that might have been worth it - but because I was so terrible at dealing with the media. Now at least if I get called nasty names it's on my own terms."

"You're not pretending."

"I don't pretend to be anything. Well, maybe a superhero sometimes. But only when I'm high."

Within two blinks Julien's gone right back to glib, but it's too late. Adam saw something there, something he hasn't been able to touch yet, right before Julien slammed the metaphorical door on him.

Therein lies the problem with Adam. He doesn't let a closed door stop him from trying.

  
* * *

  
 _Your flight is delayed,_ Lane had said. _Stay here, and if you're not here when the plane is boarding there will be hell to pay._

Since she had been speaking from unpleasant experience, Adam decides to be good. As for the boredom –

"Morning, Kris."

Kris makes a series of adorable grumbling noises before he manages actual speech. "Hi, it's early. Why are you calling?"

"I'm at an airport."

"Which one?"

Adam glances around the VIP lounge. "They're all starting to look the same, to be honest. Anyway, I'm bored. Entertain me."

"I see what this is. I'm only good for cheap laughs, huh, Lambert?" Kris drawls.

"No, you're definitely not cheap. Have you seen my phone bill?"

"Well, let's see…you could call Lane and tell her about your vision for an 18-track concept album again."

He'd forgotten how entertainingly bitchy Kris is when he's not quite awake.

"...that happened _once_. And it was only 1AM."

"Did she hang up on you?"

"No. She told me in excruciating detail why it would be a bad idea, and then she hung up."

Kris laughs. "I like her."

"Just for that, I'm going to tell you all about my vision for an 18-track concept album."

"Fire away."

  
* * *

  
Adam's kind of enjoying stressing out over what to get Kris for his birthday. For the past few years, he'd been too busy to even think about anything beyond a phone call, and although he's missing Kris's idea of a birthday party yet again because of a concert, he's determined to do something a little more memorable this time around. To celebrate all the time they've spent together – or all the attempts to spend more time together - lately, or something. Plus, he's turning 30. That's a big deal, even if Kris has been desperately attempting to downplay it.

Julien's idea of being helpful involves pointing out the flaws in every single one of Adam's increasingly outlandish ideas while smirking in that really distracting way he has, green eyes holding a hint of a challenge.

(Which eventually leads to an evening well spent, although not on suitable gift ideas. Not even for someone as understanding as Kris.

Even if he might appreciate it.)

That's just typical Julien. It's not that he doesn't like Kris -

 _"He's so goddamn precious about his art, it's adorable. I want one."_

 _"Kris is not a household pet. And the boyfriend has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, or so I've heard."_

\- he's just not inclined to be straightforward about things.

Case in point:

Adam wakes up four days later to a text message ( _gone fishing, obviously I mean that metaphorically. p.s. get it framed, thank me later_ ) and a courier delivery. The package turns out to be a rolled-up piece of paper, a little bigger than A4 size. He opens it to find a full colour drawing in the bold, splashy style of the _Puppet Theatre_ artwork, a lone figure bright against the backdrop of the night sky. It's so stylized that it takes Adam a moment to work out that the angel with his enormous wings, glowing halo and actual flaming sword is supposed to be Kris.

Underneath it, there's a line of text in Julien's messy handwriting: _it's all fake, princess_. And smaller, underneath that, almost impossible to make out: _but I'll admit you might be real_.

Adam smacks his forehead with his palm, laughing harder than he has in a long time. When he's done with that, he picks up the phone to make arrangements.

A week later, Kris texts him:

 _Got the present, TY to you and J. Please tell him its up in my living room :)_

\----------------------------------

Kris ruins all attempts at throwing him a surprise party for his 30th by going on an impromptu road trip with Jonathan. It's kind of sad, as far as road trips go, because there's only a day and a bit free on his schedule and they get lost 2 hours after leaving LA. Jonathan's surprisingly fun to be lost with, though, and he solemnly promises to protect Kris from any threats when Kris declares the motel they end up staying in creepy.

 _"Even if they're imaginary. Like ghosts or bears or - something. I'm not sure how, but I'd manage."_

They drive on until they hit the ocean again, just a small strip of miraculously deserted sand where they can stand shoulder to shoulder and watch as the setting of the sun dyes the seawater orange. It's silent except for the pounding of the waves, and he can finally hear himself think again after way too long.

Kris reaches out for Jonathan's hand, twining their fingers together and letting the shared warmth travel through him, all the way down to his bare toes.

 _Happy birthday to me._

  
* * *

  
"First week sales were good," Brian says.

"Awesome," Kris says, relieved. Then he checks himself at the frown still etched into Brian's forehead. "What? What's wrong now?"

"You can thank all the tabloid publicity for these early figures, but the real test is staying power. If the numbers start collapsing next month we'll know we've fucked up."

Kris rolls his eyes. "Thanks for being such an optimist, man."

It's not that he doesn't take the bottom line seriously. He kind of has to, it's part and parcel of being a musician on a major label. But he's also not in the habit of worrying about things he can't control.

"That little stunt you pulled with the protesters in San Jose really got people talking. I don't think I've ever seen Lara this busy. Hopefully that'll keep interest high."

"Long enough for people to actually listen to the music, you think?" Kris mutters under his breath, but Brian's already moved on to talking about the promotional TV appearances they've still looking to book for him and he has to pay attention so he doesn't end up on _The View_ or something.

  
* * *

  
It's still bugging Kris later that night, when he's home and eating dinner with Jonathan. (He was going to cook, but then that meeting happened, so they got takeout instead.) And he's not great at hiding it, never has been.

"Bad meeting?" Jonathan asks, voice low like he's trying to be careful around a prickly animal.

Kris sighs. "Not really. Just Brian being Brian, you know? Sometimes I'd rather be talking to Fuller."

"What was he even complaining about? The numbers are good. I checked."

"Sure, and of course none of it has anything to do with the reviews the album's been getting," Kris says tetchily, resting his head in his hands. "Listen to him talk and it's all the tabloids."

A part of him really resents that after more than two years of work putting _Love Never Fails_ together and finally ending up with something he's proud of, something he wants taken seriously, it's the 'revelations' about his personal life that have made people sit up and take notice.

(He doesn't resent it so much that he's above playing with people's expectations – _'it's not a Christian album'_ and all that – but he'd rather not have to do that at all.)

Brian hasn't said it, but Kris can work it out – if he had to come out as bi, it would have been safer to do it while he was single. Or even better, if he had a girlfriend. Bisexual in theory isn't all that threatening, after all. It would have made enough of a splash to help him get some press for the album launch, without any of the negative attention that being photographed kissing his boyfriend has bought. Without the risk of a backlash that's already started, if what Lara says about radio numbers – especially Christian radio - is any indication.

Thing is, there's a reason Kris conducted himself the way he did, once he made the decision to go public. The pap photos were a little blunt, but they got the point across. Even if the label might have wanted him to keep a lid on it for a while, he made sure that it was too late before they even thought to ask.

Kris didn't want plausible deniability.

He made that decision and he's living with the consequences, even the unexpected, unpleasant ones. Like people implying – or outright saying – that his marriage 'failed' because he was gay and having affairs on the side. Like the names Jonathan gets called by some of the gossip sites.

It's not ideal, any of it, but it's what he's got to work with. And he needs to stop being an asshole about it.

When Kris glances up again, the first thing he notices is the look on Jonathan's face, almost like he's scared, and that's just not right.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I know how much you hate all that," Jonathan says quietly. He looks down at his plate when Kris tries to catch his eye.

"No, no, why are you apologising? I made my bed, I'll lie in it. It's fine."

Kris reaches across the table and grabs Jonathan's hand. It's meant to be reassuring, but for which of them, he's not sure. Their fingers twine around each other by habit, even though Jonathan's still not looking at him.

"Okay."

\----------------------------------

" – why are you still wearing clothes?" Julien says impatiently, hands tugging roughly at Adam's t-shirt.

Adam's beginning to wonder that himself. He lifts his arms, letting Julien strip the sodden shirt off and throw it carelessly over the shower door. The water spray feels good on his skin, but not quite as good as Julien's bare skin against his.

They haven't seen each other for a few weeks because the next volume of _Puppet Theatre_ is out and Julien's out doing book signings and Q and As all over the place. Adam had been halfway through _hey, how was your trip_ when he got dragged fully clothed into the shower.

Julien's already naked, his body pale and lean and all but irresistible with fat droplets of water rolling down the lightly muscled planes of his chest.

"Missed me?" Adam laughs as Julien's hands get to work on his fly, and busies himself getting rid of the jeans and his boxers before the water makes it impossible.

Julien bites Adam high on the shoulder by way of reply, hard enough to break the skin, not letting up until he feels the resulting shudder. "Shut up, some of your fans are fucking scary, you know that?"

There's not enough of a joke in that tone. Adam's hands still on Julien's hips. "...what happened, and do I need to call Lane?"

"Nope. I counted to ten in my head, thought about doing this the whole time and didn't kill anyone. Aren't you proud of me?" Julien says, smirking up at Adam through his long lashes, and grinds their hips together.

Adam's vision goes all funny for a second, and when he moans it's into Julien's mouth, in a kiss that goes on long enough to make him light-headed. Julien kisses exactly like he argues – sharp, uncaring of the damage he might inflict, as if he could keep going all day.

When they finally break apart, Adam has to duck his head out of the spray and just breathe before he can think straight again. Before he can even remember why he might need to.

"Thinking about sex with me satisfies your homicidal urges? I don't know whether to be flattered or horrified."

"Be flattered. The thought that they were only looking at me like that because I get to do this - " he punctuates his words with a firm stroke of Adam's cock, grinning at Adam's gasp " - and they don't made my week so much easier."

Well, in that case.

Adam sets about thoroughly reminding him of the many benefits of dating a rock star.

  
* * *

  
When Adam finishes putting himself together after the shower Julien's already standing in the middle of his enormous main entertainment room, neatly dressed in Adam's black Queen shirt and the faded jeans he came in wearing, looking unbearably awkward. Like he's at a stranger's house and doesn't want to touch anything.

It takes Adam a moment to shake that disturbing thought. "Are you staying?"

Julien starts at Adam's voice, and it takes a few seconds for his habitual smirk to appear. "I have a flight out to Toronto in...3 hours. So no. Nice to see you, though."

Adam will swear to anybody who'd listen (most likely Danielle or Tommy, because they bear the blunt of his ramblings on his personal life these days) that his offer had been just as casual as it sounded. So he really has no right to be stung by an equally casual refusal.

Right?

> Q: So, em, you like men now.  
> A: Actually, I liked guys before Jonathan came along. It didn't sneak up on me or anything.  
> Q: Okay. How long have you known?  
> A: About as long as I've known that I like girls.

It's 10:30, well after two really irritating morning phone interviews, and Kris is trying to think of the most annoying way of waking Jonathan up. At his first glimpse of the bed, though, he has to swallow a laugh at the way Jonathan's curled up, his lanky frame folding in as if trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

(Most people look relaxed in sleep. Jonathan looks anxious.)

And when his eyes open just a sliver, he also looks hilariously cranky.

"Don't do that."

Kris rocks back on his heels, grinning helplessly. "What?"

"Look at me like...like I'm going to disappear any second," Jonathan murmurs, in the low tone that means he isn't quite awake enough to know what he's saying.

That's just ridiculous, though. There's no way – he's not going anywhere, not if Kris has anything to say about it.

  


> You deserve to be happy. So learn to be greedy, if you have to. If that's what it takes, _Katy said._
> 
>  _Kris nodded, throat too tight to speak, but he didn't really understand what she meant. Not back then._

  
But he knows what it means now.

"Get up, I'm making you breakfast. We fly out tomorrow so this is your last opportunity to eat my pancakes for a while."

Jonathan rubs his eyes violently. "I'm up, I'm up. Especially if you're cooking."

"That's more like it. For the record, I was not watching you sleep. I'm not that creepy."

  
* * *

  
Halfway through making the pancakes, Kris's phone rings.

Lizzie makes him turn off the stove and sit down first. Which means it's something really fucking awful.

"Lara just got a tip-off from an industry friend. Someone's shopping around a story about you and Jonathan to the highest bidder."

Kris would be surprised, but it's not even the first time. So far, not that scary.

"What about us?"

"That you were cheating on Katy with him and other men and that's what led you guys to separate."

Kris rolls his eyes. "Seriously? That's the best they can do?"

"Kris, the source is one of Jonathan's old musician friends. Guy by the name of Tim Rensing. Everybody's going to run with it. We can put our side out there, but we've already done that before."

 _Oh. That's not -_

"Does Brian know?"

"I haven't talked to him yet. Thought I'd give you the heads up first."

The back of the phone is cool when he presses it against his cheek, the shock of cold bringing something like clarity.

"Thank you. I'll – I'll go talk to Jonathan. Don't do anything yet. Wait for me to call back first?"

"Okay. And Kris – "

"Yeah?"

Her voice softens. "This is not a big deal. We'll figure something out. Don't freak."

"I'm not."

He's as calm as he can be. Lizzie, though – if it really is no big deal she'd have handled it without involving him. Or rather, without involving Jonathan.

  
* * *

  
Jonathan stops towelling his hair when he sees Kris sitting stiffly on their bed, staring at the door to the bathroom.

"What's wrong?"

"A friend of yours is shopping a story about us to the tabloids. Something about the real reason I got divorced," Kris says quietly.

Jonathan looks down, but not before Kris sees his face crumble. "That's – that's crazy. How I can have told anyone when even _I_ don't – " He cuts himself off with sudden viciousness. "What was the guy's name?"

"Tim Rensing. You know him?"

Jonathan flinches like he's been struck. "Yeah. Yeah, I know Tim."

Kris takes a deep breath, preparing to hate himself. "Have you ever said anything to make him think – "

"No, I'd never, Kris, please - "

"I believe you. Just – had to confirm." Kris stares at Jonathan's hunched, vulnerable-looking shoulders, the way his hands are clenched in the fabric of his hoodie and something in him breaks. "I'm not angry at you, okay? We just need - "

"I – I'll take care of it. I just have to make a couple of phone calls," Jonathan says, his voice wobbling towards the end, and leaves the room without ever having looked Kris in the eye.

  
* * *

  
Kris goes into his small, tidy kitchen and cleans up the half-made pancakes. They're probably beyond rescuing, but he's got enough stuff in the fridge to make interesting new omelette variations.

The mindless, methodical work of cooking helps. He's calmer and the racket means he's not listening to the shouting coming from the bedroom, where Jonathan's still on the phone.

He's just finished the omelettes (tomato, some type of Swiss sausage that was a gift from his next door neighbour, capsicum, potato, Chinese cabbage and cheese – also known as most of the contents of his fridge) when Jonathan peeks his head in the doorway.

"It's done. You can tell Lizzie, Tim's calling the places he talked to to retract right now."

He sounds better, less shaky, but there's still so much fear in the way he looks at Kris.

"Thank you."

Kris offers him a plate so he doesn't have to see that look. Horrified faces at his cooking experiments are totally an acceptable substitute.

Breakfast happens in slightly stilted silence. It's not quite as bad as it could be – Jonathan even cracks a surprised smile when Kris's omelette proves surprisingly edible, and Kris suspects they both need the coffee even more than the food.

Jonathan drains his (black, insane amounts of sugar) before he ventures into conversation again.

"I've known him since high school. I can't believe he'd even think of doing this."

His words start soft and gain strength as they go on, as if he's been trying to hold it in and just couldn't any more.

Kris tries not to let what he does make him cynical, but that old lesson about friends not being what they seemed to be once a person's circumstances change, well, everyone learns that one early. It's different with Jonathan, though. He didn't ask for any of it.

"I'm so sorry. Jonathan, I - "

Somehow, _that_ puts the fearful look back on Jonathan's face. "No, no, what are you apologising for? He's hard up and saw an opportunity to make some cash, that's all."

Kris sighs. "Exactly. I gave him that opportunity."

"No, I did," Jonathan says, quiet and thoughtful.

  
* * *

  
A couple of places run the story anyway, even after the retraction. It's not as big a splash as it could have been, but it's big enough to make Kris's next meeting with Brian a lot rougher than he'd have liked. There's shouting over promo, and Brian even invokes the most dreaded two words in the English language for any musician under Sony.

(Those two words being Clive Davis, obviously.)

Kris prays for strength and patience and very carefully doesn't walk out on him. It only works because the private radio show they'd played earlier that day had gone so smoothly, no rude questions in between performances, just him and Jonathan bantering with the DJs. And just before he left, one of them – a gruff-sounding guy in his fifties – turned to him and quietly said that the new songs were his best yet.

That's how it is, most days. He takes the good with the bad and it all balances out.

For example: a show, a plane ride and a label meeting is not Kris's idea of a fun day, but coming home exhausted to find that Jonathan's already let himself in? That makes up for it. Kris finds himself grinning like an idiot at the sight of Jonathan's battered Chucks just inside his door.

His first clue that something's not right is the way Jonathan's sitting, all curled in like he's trying to take up as little space as possible.

"Jonathan? What's going on?"

"Oh. You're back."

"Yeah, and you're scaring me. What is it?"

It's the way Jonathan's looking at him, fearful and pleading underneath the usual intensity of focus.

Jonathan stands up slowly, like he's shaky, but he doesn't come any closer. "Kris, I need to – I'm going to say this wrong, and I'm sorry, but I thought – if I do this in person, you can at least punch me in the face."

Kris has trouble drawing breath, just for a second. "Wh – why would I want to do that?" he says, with his best attempt at a laugh. It sounds awful, choked.

Jonathan stares down at Kris's nice clean carpet like it holds the secrets of the universe, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. It takes him a few tries to get words out.

"I know the timing sucks, and – and everything else, too. But I don't think I can do this. Any more. You know how I feel. But - I just can't." He says it slowly, stumbling over the words like he's having trouble holding on to coherence, and it seems to take an eternity for them to make sense to Kris.

He doesn't – he can't -

"Don't hate me. Please," Jonathan says, as if he's begging for a lost cause.

 _If only it were that easy._

"What do you want me to say?" Kris says, his voice barely stronger than a whisper.

"This - it's not because of you. Never because of you. It's – "

"Everything else?" Kris finishes. He sounds wrong to his own ears, tone ironed out and carefully even. "I'm sorry to have given you so much trouble."

Jonathan draws back like Kris really had just punched him. "Don't say that. It's not you."

It took a lot for Kris to start talking again, but now he can't seem to stop. All in that weirdly even tone. "Sure it is. If I was just an ordinary guy none of this would have happened. Or if I'd kept my mouth shut, tried to keep things under the radar for a while. But you know me. Not so great at rational decisions."

Jonathan's hands are shaking a little at his sides. "I'm sorry. I - "

He looks up.

In the end, it's the quietly defeated expression on his face that makes Kris snap out of it. "No. It's alright. I get it."

He wraps his arms around himself and tries not to curl up even more.

 _You deserve to be happy. So learn to be greedy, if you have to. If that's what it takes._

See, that's worst part. Even now, Kris knows that if he really tries, beyond what's reasonable or even acceptable, if he asks and begs and uses everything he has – he could, maybe, make Jonathan stay.

But maybe if he keeps trying, keeps holding on, Jonathan would end up hating him for all the stupid crap he'd bought into his life. Maybe he asked for too much, too soon.

(Because that's the only way he knows.)

"I would have stayed – through everything. You know that."

He gets up and walks out of the room, one step at a time. No looking back.

  
* * *

  
 _First of all, I'm a dick for not saying this to your face. You deserve at least that, but I just know that as soon as you looked me in the eye I'd run out of words. You make me kind of stupid. Which is a compliment to you, but it doesn't speak well for me._

 _Just to be clear, I don't blame you for anything. This has been honestly a blast, the whole thing, stumbling upon something that turned out to be completely unexpected and wonderful, even if I ended up finding out that I couldn't handle every single part of it. That's the whole truth. There's nothing else that would make me give up on you. You deserve someone who can be with you through everything. I'm so sorry that I can't be that person._

 _We're both professionals, and as awkward as things are going to get now, at least I won't be in your face for too much longer now that Cale's coming back soon._

 _Yours  
J._

\----------------------------------

The break-up doesn't play out too badly in the press, surprisingly enough. Then again, it's never been easy to make dirt stick to Kris. He makes the most devastating sad faces Adam's ever seen on anything that isn't a fluffy animal. Making him look like the bad guy takes a certain amount of work. It's that air of openness and vulnerability he projects, even though he's not always that open and far from vulnerable. But the perception is overwhelming, and that's enough.

Jonathan goes on avoiding the press like the plague, just like he did when they were still together. Adam doesn't blame him for bailing, because everybody has limits. But he does blame the guy for not doing it earlier.

Before he made the kind of mess that's going to be hard to clean up.

  
* * *

  
Katy texts him, a week after it happened.

 _I need a huge favour: go check up on Kris for me? He says he's fine. I don't believe him. I know you're busy, but could you spare a visit?_

Adam hesitates before typing out his reply.

 _I'll try. Text you the results._

  
* * *

  
A week later, he still hasn't done the promised house visit. Part of it is being genuinely busy. The rest is more complicated.

Adam brings up the file on his laptop.

 _stay (demo).m4a_

It's a new song, just a rough demo with a guitar and Kris's voice, husky-rough because he recorded it at some crazy late time. Adam kind of wishes it had been written in time to make Kris's album, even though it sounds nothing like the songs that did make it, and he can't really imagine Kris performing it live, with that chorus line, _all I want is everything / and all you do is run away_ , sinuous and pleading but with an angry bite to it.

Adam heard it once earlier this week when Kris sent it to him ( _think this is the first real angry song I've written in a long time, no idea if it's any good so…tell me what you think_ ), and immediately texted him raving how much he loved everything about it. But now that he has time to actually listen to it, hear all the lyrics and the emotion barely kept in rein behind every word, it's kind of…horrible.

It's a great song, sure.

It's a great song that makes him feel like he just watched Kris have angry break-up sex.

Adam picks up the phone.

  
* * *

  
Kris answers on the sixth ring the second time he tries.

"Adam?"

Adam winces. Even that single word sounds off.

"You okay? No bullshit, remember, I can tell."

A pause, then he can hear Kris draw in a deep breath. "I cancelled the lease on my apartment."

 _You what?_

Adam should have called a week ago. Two weeks. Screw giving Kris space to deal with things - this is not dealing.

"Kris, look - "

"Listen, okay? I know it was a dumb thing to do. But…I wasn't thinking," Kris says quickly, finally sounding something close to normal.

Adam breaths a very quiet sigh of relief. "I'm not going to disagree with you there. So you're not moving back to Arkansas?"

"Nope. Can I – " there's the sound of movement, maybe footsteps. Adam can picture Kris pacing. "I'm going to ask for a huge favour. Feel free to say no, seriously."

"What is it?" Adam says, already gearing up for any number of things. Hell if he's going to be the one to say no to Kris right now.

"Can I crash at your place until I sort this out? I'll be going on tour soon anyway, and - "

Adam laughs in relieved delight. "Yes, a hundred times yes. Fucking hell, Kris, who're you taking me for? Stay as long as you want."

What else is a huge, ridiculous Hollywood mansion for if a friend can't stay over?

  
* * *

  
Kris arrives the next day just before midnight with a single battered suitcase. He somehow feels more fragile than ever in Adam's arms, even though he hasn't lost weight.

The shadows under his eyes don't dissipate when he smiles, gazing up through dark lashes.

Adam frowns. "You look – "

"Terrible, right?" Kris says, one hand idly picking at a loose seam on his t-shirt, which looks at least three years old.

That's the thing – he doesn't. The hurt is easily visible, especially to someone who knows him, but there's something oddly compelling about it.

"Yes, we all wish we could all look this 'terrible' every morning," Adam says, and if he doesn't bother letting go of Kris to do the air quotes, he's pretty sure Kris can hear them in his voice anyway. "You look good, now stop fishing for compliments."

Kris pouts. "I do not fish for compliments."

"No, you just do self-depreciating like it's a spectator sport," Adam says fondly.

Kris tilts his head to the side, suddenly all sass. "I'm a champ at it."

No matter what else has changed, it's a relief that things are still the same between them - easy, effortless.

(From the day they first met, as far back as Adam can remember, it's always been like this.)

Kris's tiny old suitcase looks incredibly out of place in Adam's gleaming entranceway. He's always packed light, but this is ridiculous.

"Where's the rest of your stuff?"

"I'm not – at Mark's." He goes on at Adam's blank look. "You know, my new drummer."

Adam picks up the suitcase and starts walking inside, ignoring Kris's squawk of protest. Yes, he's perfectly capable of carrying his own stuff, but Adam's a better host than that. "No, I didn't know. How is it that you can't seem to keep a drummer beyond a single year?"

"I blame Ryland for working out too well. But Mark's cool. I don't have that much stuff, so I thought – he's got enough space at his apartment."

"Bring it all over. I've got plenty of room."

What Adam has is a proper Hollywood mansion with bathrooms bigger than some apartments he's lived in. He'd wanted to go all out when he bought the place three years ago, but with the album and the tour he's maybe lived here for a grand total of half a year since then.

The point of a nice mansion for the busy LA-based celebrity, it turns out, is not to enjoy living in it, but to enjoy having it. Which is just sad, in Adam's opinion, and that's why he's determined to slow down a bit, at least for the next few months.

Kris snorts. "But it's so soon, what if we aren't compatible?"

"Oh, I don't think that's going to be a problem," Adam says.

He's only half kidding. If anything, he suspects any issues are going to come from the other direction. They tend to flirt habitually around each other, which is fun but not always appropriate. Maybe especially inappropriate right now.

The room he picked for Kris is the one right across from the master bedroom, mostly because it's the least ostentatiously decorated, and much as Adam would have liked to have seen Kris's face if he had tried to give him the funhouse-themed room, he's not actually a sadist.

(Lesson learned from that one: decorating decisions are not to be made while high.)

"Here you go." Adam opens the door with a flourish. "Do you like it? You can pick one of the others, but I thought - "

"It's lovely, thank you," Kris says softly. He shuffles in, tossing the next words over his shoulder. "By the way, can you tell Katy that I'm okay? She doesn't believe me."

"I can't lie to her," Adam says, careful.

"You don't have to. I wrote an angry song, did some stupid impulsive things that I'm gonna pay for, and now I'm fine. Really."

That's all fine and good, and might even be believable if Kris hadn't upended his suitcase over the bed as he talked, sending several books, a Frisbee, a bundle of clothes and what looks like a small goldfish bowl tumbling out.

Adam winces. The mess is fine, whatever, they can fix that easily. The rigid line of Kris's back - that's a different matter.

"Uh huh. If you want me to believe that, here's what we're going to do: leave the results of your terrible packing skills here, go camp out on my insanely comfortable couch, and then you are going to let me make you a whole lot of margaritas."

"You don't have to get me drunk. I'll talk now," Kris says dryly, but he obediently follows Adam out of the room and away from his disaster zone of a bed.

"It's just so much more fun this way. You may not remember this, but I do make a mean margarita."

It's not so much the passage of time that makes Adam say that. More relevant is just how drunk Kris had been that time - flushed all the way down the skin exposed by his very unbuttoned shirt and getting handsier by the minute before Adam dragged him up to their hotel room and put him to bed, complaining about having to be the responsible one all the while.

(Sometimes, Adam's memories of the Idol tour feel like they happened to a different person.)

When he turns back, maybe to say something along those lines, Kris gives him a sheepish look. "Oh, I remember that part. The rest of that night, not so much. And you know how I feel about tequila-based drinks."

Adam grins. He knows when he's already won. "Come on, give it another shot? For me?"

  
* * *

  
Kris takes a delicate sip of his drink, somehow reminding Adam of a kitten lapping at a bowl of cream. Except a kitten wouldn't make that face Kris just pulled.

"How do you drink this stuff?" he mutters, nose wrinkling. "Er, not that I don't appreciate you making the effort. It's just – not my thing."

Adam laughs, partly out of relief as much as anything else. Some things never change. "It's not just meant to taste good. It's meant to make you feel better."

"By numbing my taste buds?"

"Philistine. Drink up," Adam says, raising his glass towards Kris's. "To moving onwards and upwards."

"Is that what we're drinking to?"

"Could be, if you want."

Kris drains almost half his glass this time. He might complain, but he's clearly gotten much better at downing tequila since the move to LA.

"Somebody asked me the other day if I was over him yet."

"You're not," Adam says bluntly.

"I know."

Kris tips his head back against the couch, exhaling loudly. After a moment he seems to decide Adam's shoulder might be more comfortable as a headrest. His hair tickles against the sensitive skin of Adam's neck, but he feels warm and solid and Adam can't really complain.

"That guy - "

"Jonathan - " Kris says, with a slight bite in his voice.

"Right, Jonathan. If he couldn't take the pressure, then you're probably better off without him."

He must have been really freaked out. Even from the little Adam saw, he could tell the guy was seriously into Kris. But Adam's not here to be fair.

Kris lolls his head to the side so he can grin up at Adam, sharp and with a little teeth to it. "Be honest at me some more. Come on, I've missed it."

Something in him is clearly bristling and defensive about Jonathan, still, even after all that's happened, and Adam can't resist poking at it like rubbing at a newly scabbed wound. He doesn't want to hurt Kris – someone else has done enough of that – but he can't stop, either.

"Do you really think – honestly, now – is he worth everything you're going through?"

Kris's tense expression crumbles into surprise. "If he wasn't, I wouldn't have started anything. Adam, you know how I am."

He does. Maybe that's the problem.

"I might be a little biased here - but anyone who bails on you like that, I'm going to judge pretty harshly."

"He didn't," Kris snaps, biting off whatever he was going to say next with visible effort. Adam just holds him a little closer, waiting him out. Until he's found the right words. "You know what, you were kind of right, it was always heading this way. He hates publicity a lot more than I do."

It's funny – that wasn't at all why Adam had been sceptical, and he's probably never been less pleased to be right.

"Do you resent him? At least a little?"

Kris's reply is immediate, like he's maybe thought about it a lot. "How did you feel right after you broke up with Drake?"

 _Ouch._

Kris doesn't mean it like that, of course. To him, that's the answer. And maybe it is.

Adam closes his eyes for a moment, just to think. Drake's been a friend a lot longer than he's been a lover, but like everything else that happened around Idol, their time together is hard to forget. "First rule of a relationship: don't think the other person's actually going to change for you, even if they want to."

Kris shakes his head, frustration still colouring his voice. "I never wanted him to change. It wasn't that clean-cut. There's - you know, Andrew says Jonathan's not dealing that well. 'Even worse than you' I think were the words he used."

He sounds rueful, like he feels responsible. And when Adam thinks about it –

"Can't say I'm surprised."

Kris winces. "Don't say that. That's like - did I ever tell you about the really bad argument I had with Katy? Not my Katy – Cale's Katy, Kate. She said, what was it, _you get your hooks into people so easily, Kris, and then you expect them to be able to just let go._ " Kris shakes his head. He's still smiling, but it's gone a little bleak, the kind of expression that makes Adam's chest hurt. "Like I made Cale stay in LA for so long."

"Didn't you?" Adam says, because he's nothing if not honest. Especially for Kris. And as far as conversation topics go, this is a lot safer than where they were. The Cale Problem has come up a few times before, but this is the first time Adam's getting to hear it in any detail.

"You don't know – " Kris says, voice pared down to a whisper. "I kept offering him leave, and he put it off for ages. It's not – I wouldn't ever do that to Kate."

"Maybe not deliberately. Think about it, I don't know Cale and you do – would he leave if he thought you needed him?"

Adam's careful to phrase it as a question, even when it's really not. They both know the answer.

Kris makes a short, abortive move towards his drink before he apparently decides it's too much effort and snuggles closer into Adam's side instead. His warm breaths against the rise of Adam's collarbone make him feel pleasantly shivery, but not in a way that rings any alarm bells.

"I didn't want to make him choose. We used to joke about it, you know, how there's this competition between us. She looks better in a dress; I make better chili - and all that. But it's been different since Cale got a place here."

Adam nods. This is the part he's heard before. "And you had nothing to do with that?"

Kris shrugs. "He had to stop sleeping on my couch eventually. You don't have to say it - it was totally on me to let him go. I did. End of story."

It might be, if Kris didn't sound like he was trying to convince himself.

"So you've stopped harassing him over the phone since the last time I saw you?" Adam says lightly.

Kris's embarrassed flush gives him away before he says a single word. "Not like, restraining order level harassing. I'm just not used to having him be out of contact."

"That's usually what parental leave means," Adam says dryly.

"I know, I know, I'm not going to pull him away from his baby girls. It's just…"

Kris seems to give up on language at this point and resort to just flapping his hands. Or as much as he can while still wrapped halfway around Adam, anyway.

It takes a moment for Adam to get it.

 _Oh._

"It's awkward with Jonathan now, isn't it?"

"You were right, okay? I shouldn't have dated a member of the band, and now it's weird. I'm glad he decided to stick around until Cale can come back, but – "

Adam thinks of Kris's performing style, the way he engages with the people in his band, feeding off their energy - the way he used to play with Jonathan on stage.

He winces.

"Yeah, you see what the problem is. I'm an idiot," Kris says, butting his head against Adam's chest in frustration.

He only subsides when Adam starts petting his hair, running his fingers through the feather-soft mess and rubbing his thumb against his scalp.

"Hey, do you hear me gloating? I'm not gloating. That's a shitty situation. I'm sorry that it happened."

"Yeah, I just – it's hard not to wonder, you know? Maybe I pushed too hard, it was all too quick, I got too clingy too fast. Something like that."

Adam sighs. "There's nothing wrong with being committed to your relationship." And when Kris snorts disbelievingly, like even he's not buying it, "no, seriously, would I lie to you? Although I'm probably not the best person to ask about this. You know how I get when I'm with someone."

Kris rolls his eyes. "Oh yeah, wanting to spend time together while in a relationship. Terrifying."

 _Wow._

Adam refrains from replying (mostly because he's not sure what he'd say), but something about his body language must shift, enough for Kris to replay the last minute or so, realize what he just implied, and bury his face in Adam's shirt in embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm - projecting. It's dumb. Forget I said anything."

Adam waves him off - he's allowed to be snippy in this state. It's probably in the BFF rulebook. "Again, you know what I'm like with relationships. The word 'overbearing' comes to mind."

"You're fine, trust me. Sam had no idea what he was talking about," Kris says fiercely, and Adam can't help but be amused and a little touched by how long Kris's kept up his indignation over that fiasco.

"Sam who? Anyway, we're not talking about me. We're talking about how you could possibly have acquired the belief that you fuck up relationships."

"Actually, you know, I've probably got a better attitude about that stuff than I used to," Kris says, suddenly and inexplicably cheerful. "Katy even said so."

Adam stops playing with Kris's hair. "She did what?"

"When we…first started having problems, she had to be the one to point out we'd drifted apart." Kris's words come slowly, like it's something he still doesn't quite know how to talk about. "And, you know, it kind of stuck with me, what she said before we, you know, signed the papers and everything."

"What did she say?"

Adam's honestly afraid of the answer. He hadn't realized it before, but in a funny way he had a lot invested in Kris's relationship with Katy. If they couldn't manage to separate without things getting ugly -

"'Learn to be greedy,' that's what she told me once. I think I have," Kris says, his tone light. "It's been good for me."


	5. a day like today

Three days into Kris's stay, Adam wakes up in the middle of the night to Kris invading his bed.

"Your house is too big," he whispers when Adam manages a few inquiring sounds. "Go back to sleep. I promise to stay on my side."

Kris shouldn't make promises he can't keep. He's a cuddler, and it's not as if anybody who's known him for longer than five minutes doesn't know this. Still, nothing scary about that.

It's just Kris. He doesn't ask for much, and Adam doesn't want to say no.

  
* * *

  
Julien calls him out of the blue for what feels like the first time ever in their relationship. Adam's about to ask what the emergency is, just to tease, but Julien starts talking before he can even get a word in.

"I'm going on a trip. It's just for a week, South America, mostly Uruguay and Argentina. There may be some camping involved. You want to come?"

He sounds perfectly nonchalant, except for the part where he's talking slightly too fast. Adam has to rewind mentally before he can process.

"Do I look like the camping type?"

"Stereotypes are bad, Adam," Julien says in a sing-song voice. "You should know that."

Adam laughs helplessly. "Don't even start. But seriously, I can't. I've got meetings. Video shoots."

 _Making sure Kris doesn't go off the rails._

There's a beat of silence, and Adam's just about to start _wondering_ when Julien snorts. "No one ever told me the life of a rock star could be so boring. Have fun being yelled at by soulless old men while I'm gone."

Through the phone, it's hard to tell if he's being bitchy because it's more fun or actually a little ticked off or even upset.

"Come visit when you get back?" Adams says eventually, taking care to make it a question.

"Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I like you."

\----------------------------------

Kris makes himself go into the studio to meet Andrew instead of making him drive all the way out to Adam's house. After all, it's technically his fault that Andrew suddenly has a bunch more acoustic radio events on his calendar than he did three weeks ago. He's done a lot more of these shows with Cale in the past, but things have always been easy with Andrew too, at least when it comes to the music. It doesn't take them long to work through their typical set.

When they first started playing together, Kris used to get a certain thrill out of impressing Andrew. It hasn't really gone away (even though he now knows the kind of dork Andrew is underneath the Wayfarers) because it wasn't ever about personality. For them, it's always been about the music.

"Why don't we ever write together, Andrew?"

It's not the first time he's asked, but it's definitely the first time he's been this pushy. Andrew gets that slightly alarmed look he's never learned to hide from Kris before he can smooth it out into blandness.

"Because I'm just the guitarist," he says, deadpan.

It's almost an in-joke by now. "Oh, stop."

"We don't have that kind of relationship," Andrew continues. Kris is 90% sure he's joking. It's the beginnings of a smirk curving his mouth.

"What kind is that?"

That brings the smirk out full-force. "Well, you've never accidentally made out with me on stage."

Kris is momentarily torn between laughing and scowling. (It only happened once, okay, and the rest of the band - and Katy, and Cale's Katy - have never let it go since.)

He settles for smirking. "We could if you want."

Andrew rolls his eyes, which is just mean. "Kris."

"Sorry," Kris says unrepentantly. "I've never made out with Mat Kearney either - we still write together. Your logic is stupid. And stop trying to distract me, it's not working."

"No, I should have known you'd be too persistent," Andrew says, rueful and amused all at once, and starts putting his guitar away, back turned to Kris. It's fine, he's probably just thinking, although Kris can't really see what there is to think about. They've had this conversation before. A lot.

Andrew snaps the case shut on his Gibson before turning around, not showing the slightest signs of surprise when Kris is three steps closer than he was before.

When he's this serious, his eyes are dark, almost grey. His hand on Kris's shoulder is firm and warm, even through the layers of cloth. "Alright, I'll work on _Stay_ with you."

"How did you know – "

 _I was going to ask for that?_

Stupid question. He's worked on nothing else for weeks. "Never mind. Thank you. I promise not to cry if you think it sucks."

Andrew grins. "I promise not to lie if I think it sucks. Enough awkward questions now?"

"You just want to run away," Kris says, putting enough of a pout into his voice to make the joke obvious. "Am I really that annoying to hang out with right now?"

Andrew drops his hand with a long-suffering sigh. "I said, enough awkward questions already. If I say you're weird to be around right now, do you get what I mean?"

"...because I'm miserable?" Kris says evenly.

Somebody who knows him would take that tone as a warning. But Andrew doesn't just know him, he's more or less lived with him for years in a range of very confined spaces. He just grins.

"No, because everybody wants to make you less miserable. I keep expecting to see Brian pop up and offer to make you tea."

There's a pause, and then they're both laughing uncontrollably.

"If he got replaced by a cyborg, maybe," Kris chokes out between giggles.

Andrew's got a point, though.

\----------------------------------

Kris is already home when Adam gets dropped off after the big glitzy charity event he'd done a set for that night. He's really fucking tired and just wants to strip off, take a shower and get some really unhealthy food – in that order – but the sight of Kris leaning against the wall watching him take his boots off still makes him grin.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself."

When he looks closer, though, the expression on his face makes Adam pause.

"What's wrong?"

And just like that, it's gone, quick enough that Adam could almost believe it was never there. The lopsided grin Kris conjures up in its place is definitely telling him to believe that.

"Nothing. Just feeling delayed guilt about, you know, abusing your hospitality."

"Abuse away," Adam says. He'd wave a hand grandly but they're busy trying to get his boots off.

The way Kris laughs, low with a slight wicked edge, might be one of Adam's favourite sounds. Mostly because he knows it's real. "You're going to regret saying that."

"No, I won't – aha!" Boots successfully removed, he starts striding inside, tossing the next words over his shoulder. "You're secretly a Stepford wife, don't think I don't know."

"Guilty as charged," Kris says easily. "Are you going to freak if I start moving stuff around in the kitchen? 'Cause I had a quick look and…it's like what would happen if you gave my mom a million dollars and asked her to outfit the place."

 _That's – about right, actually._

"Move away. I'm kind of terrified of it, myself."

  
* * *

  
The humour in that entire conversation only becomes clear to Adam when he sets foot in the kitchen and discovers that Kris's already more than made himself at home. Not in a mess-creating way, but –

He hadn't quite realized that he owned so many woks.

Kris takes one look at his face and starts giggling. "Have you seriously never opened one of your cupboards? Or, actually, they're more like closets."

"I haven't had much opportunity to cook. In – shit, forever."

"Fair enough. Wanna try my stir-fry?"

Kris's cooking is in general not to be refused. Even after all their time apart, Adam still remembers being told that.

"Who am I to say no to such an invitation?"

"Right answer," Kris says, and shoves a delicious-smelling bowl into his hands.

  
* * *

  
They end up talking work over sweet and sour pork. Kris's management made the decision to cut back on album promo while the break-up played out in the media, and while Adam can easily believe that Kris's handler had his best interests in mind, he can also easily imagine the kind of bullshit the label had to be putting Kris through.

" - throw more creative tantrums. Eventually you'll get to the point where they let you do what you want."

It's not that simple, of course – Adam's tantrums are usually premeditated - but that's the gist of it.

"That only works for you," Kris says, his gaze warm with affection. "I can't pull that off."

Adam shakes his head. "I think you underestimate yourself."

Even as he says it, he knows that's not quite right. Kris's view of himself isn't the problem.

"No, I don't," he replies, but only after stealing one of Adam's pieces of broccoli. "But, you know, could be worse. I've gotten this far without having to take my clothes off. That's something."

Adam takes a piece of Kris's pork in retaliation. He's only a little better with chopsticks, but luckily Kris only puts up a token resistance. "Except for that one time."

"Shut up, pap shots totally don't count."

Adam has to bite back a smirk. "I meant the booklet – what was it, the Japanese edition or something – for your second album. I'm right, aren't I?"

"Doesn't count," Kris says embarrassedly.

Adam smiles wider. "Why not? Did they or did they not make you take your shirt off for one of those photos?"

"It was just one," Kris mutters, red splashing across his cheekbones. "And not even shot from the front."

Typical. Adam has to resist the urge to laugh, maybe giggle like a crazy person.

He saw it in passing, just the once, and only has a vague impression of the setting, the concept, basically everything but the vulnerable curve of Kris's neck, the bare, elegant lines of his back, his arms. Remembers trying to remind himself to send Kris a teasing text message, like the ones Kris still sends Adam sometimes when he comes across one of Adam's photo shoots. _Hey, you look awesome in this picture,_ half teasing but one hundred percent honest with the compliment. He's not sure what he would have said, maybe something about the photographer doing good work. Probably nothing as over the top as how gorgeous the shot was, and how difficult it was to look away from it.

That would be honest, too, and Kris would happily accept the compliment in the spirit it was intended, but – they've gotten out of the habit of being quite _that_ honest.

"It was nice, though. Artful, I thought," he says eventually.

It makes Kris brighten up, still embarrassed but now grinning at Adam instead of looking at his bowl. "Yeah? Really? That does make me feel better. And, you know, I trust your opinion on this stuff."

"As you should. And you know how ridiculous it is that you're at all insecure about your looks?"

"Please. LA's full of pretty people. I'm just another face in the crowd. It's fine, I like it. Not everyone has the stomach for standing out all the time. It takes a special kind of guy," Kris says, drawling the last part out, his smile crooked and warm and aimed straight at the part of Adam that will always enjoy easy acceptance, even if he's learned to live with the alternatives.

It makes pulling on an exaggerated caricature of his public persona that much more difficult, but he just about manages the right amount of sass. "Someone has to keep the paparazzi employed."

"Better you than me, dude," Kris says brightly. Then, softer, serious and a little cynical, "and you do such a great job."

There are about a dozen different ways to interpret that, or there would be if Adam didn't recognise the conspiratorial gleam in Kris's eyes.

Once, Alisan said to him, a little archly, _your little friend is such a stereotype, it's kind of scary_. Adam had laughed at the time, because – yes, but also, what?

The truth is, Kris is not like anybody else Adam's ever met.

There've been times when Adam wanted to sit him down, try and change his mind, make him actually have more than a half-hearted go at this 'being famous' thing. But they've always done things differently, and maybe Kris wouldn't be Kris anymore if he changed.

"How can you stand it? All that shit about being 'the boring one', all these years?"

"I've seen what they do to people they find interesting," Kris says, barely smiling, and his eyes never leave Adam's. "I worked hard at not being that. Kind of pissed it's all gone down the drain."

\----------------------------------

The truth is, Kris isn't some tortured artist, too good to play the same game as everyone else. He's been playing from the beginning, just with one hand tied behind his back.

(That hand in this awkward metaphor being his belief that he doesn't have to become a soulless bastard to win.)

He's done okay, all things considered.

\----------------------------------

Two days later, Kris comes home from a show in San Diego, his first big one after the break-up – weird. Quiet and not smiling, even when Adam drags him into the kitchen to show him the mess that resulted from Adam's attempts at paella.

"You made out with Jonathan backstage, didn't you?"

Sometimes, Adam's not good at keeping his mouth shut.

"Is it that obvious?" Kris says softly, looking anywhere but at Adam.

Adam snorts, giving in to the urge to brush his thumb against the obvious bite mark framed by the gaping v of Kris's shirt collar, the angry red standing out against his pale skin. The contact makes Kris go entirely still, and now he is looking up, pupils dark and blown.

The expression on his face kind of scares the shit out of Adam. Mostly because he has a fleeting second of wanting to have been the one to put it there, and –

Goddamn it. He's had years of practice killing these thoughts before they even take form, he's not going to fuck it up now.

 _Who's the vulnerable one, again?_

"Don't. You know how unhealthy this is. You guys have to work together, fine, but don't try and make it be more again. Not when you've already decided not to go down that path. Trust me, I know."

Kris tips his head back against the wall, exhaling loudly. "I had a bad day. That's all."

"Hey, you don't have to explain," Adam says, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm gonna go shower. Dinner after?"

"Sure."

  
* * *

  
Adam's paella is surprisingly not terrible despite what it looks like, and Kris is always fun to watch terrible reality TV with. It's just a shame neither of them managed to find the popcorn that he's sure exists somewhere deep in one of his pantries. Then again, if they had, some of it might have been thrown at the screen.

Some things have changed for the better, but dating shows? Definitely worse. Adam spends more time watching Kris's endlessly entertaining reactions than he does the TV screen. An hour in, though, Kris's exhaustion has caught up with him in a big way. Which is kind of obvious in the way he's mostly horizontal, head pillowed on Adam's thigh, eyes fluttering closed every few minutes.

Adam slides a hand through his hair, hesitates. "Hey, I have to leave for a few days to film the new video, are you going to be okay?"

There's a silence and he's just about to check that Kris hasn't dropped off to sleep when he replies, voice low and soft, the words coming slowly.

"I'm fine and you're not my babysitter. Lizzie's started scheduling more shows and press for me again, anyway. Go take care of your rock star duties."

> Q: So, Kris, does this mean you're now dating Adam Lambert?  
> A: No, no, Adam's taken. But he's got a big house and lots of spare rooms.

Kris drags himself out of bed at 11 on Adam's first day away, pulls on the first pair of pants that he can reach and wanders zombie-like through the house, getting lost twice in his search for caffeine (aka the kitchen).

Maybe that's why he only notices Brad's presence when he runs into him.

"Woah - morning! Do you always wander around the place half-naked?"

Brad's hands are steady on his bare shoulders, tightening when Kris sways on the spot.

"Hi, Brad. Coffee?"

Brad laughs at whatever pitiful expression Kris has on his face for a minute straight, but as he's bustling around grabbing a mug and pouring coffee during that minute Kris really can't bring himself to mind.

"Here, you can thank me when you're coherent."

Five minutes later, Kris is just about hitting that stage of consciousness where he's awake enough to be embarrassed about being barely dressed. It's not Brad, who isn't looking at Kris any differently than usual (where usual is equal parts amusement and penetrating intelligence, and maybe a little appreciation). Mostly the fact that he's in someone else's house half-naked.

He excuses himself to go and put on the first shirt he can find that'll fit. It turns out to be one of his button-ups, draped over the arm of the couch in the entertainment room. He really needs to get over his fear of Adam's washing machine and do laundry soon.

(The first time it yelled at him was kind of traumatizing. Kris likes technology, but not when it complains very loudly about being out of water in the scariest possible the-droid-army-will-kill-you-in-your-sleep voice.)

When he gets back to the kitchen, Brad's settled himself in one of the chairs, flipped around with his elbows braced on the back and is nursing his own mug of coffee.

"Please tell me Adam didn't send you here to check up on me," Kris blurts out, and regrets it almost immediately.

Even more when Brad raises his eyebrows at him. "Come on, Adam doesn't send me places."

Kris holds up his hands, scrambling to explain. "Sorry, I knew that. Just had to check since he's being ridiculous."

"Apology accepted," Brad says regally, nodding, and gestures for Kris to sit like a prince entertaining guests at his castle. "Just thought I'd drop in, see if he's around."

Somehow, Kris is not at all surprised that Brad has full access to Adam's house whenever he wants.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Have you met Julien yet?"

"Adam won't let me," Brad says. When he smiles, it's hard not to be struck by just how nice his features are, even with that slightly sadistic gleam in his eyes. "I have no idea why."

Kris grins. "I can't imagine. Maybe he thinks you'd scare him off."

Brad tilts his head, all angelic innocence. "I still have no idea what you're talking about. Remember, Adam doesn't date guys who scare easily."

 _Okay, point._

"He's a cool guy, just – the way he comes across, maybe, rubs people the wrong way."

"We don't all have the same range of choices in how we present ourselves," Brad says. His tone is light, and maybe that's enough to fool some people, but the look in his eyes is serious enough.

Kris nods. He gets it. Or at least he's been trying. "Yeah, I know."

Brad stares, like he's evaluating Kris's response. "How's it been, suddenly having less?"

"Other than the messy break-up?" Kris says. His laugh sounds harsh and forced, but at least it's a laugh. "Pretty good. I haven't changed, people just look at me differently."

Brad inclines his head like he'd been given an acceptable answer. "Congratulations on that."

"What, not changing? You know, when I met Adam, that's what I liked about him right off – the way he was just his own person, no matter what else was going on. Same with you."

He's said it before, but not to Brad's face, the few times they'd met.

Brad drains his coffee, carefully setting the mug down on the table, and looks back at Kris with a small grin. "Thanks. It's kind of scary how deadly earnest you can still get after all this time, but thanks."

Kris pulls himself up to collect the mugs and take them to the (monstrously large) dishwasher.

"You're welcome. Want some lunch? I think we've got enough ingredients for me to make something."

When he turns back, Brad's already standing beside the door, pulling his jacket on. "Tempting, but no. Thanks for the offer though. Try not to sleep with Adam now that you're co-habiting."

"Too late," Kris mutters, deliberately loud, just as Brad walks through the doorway.

Brad stops in his tracks.

"Oh, you meant _sleep with_. Nah, he's got Julien for that."

  
* * *

  
The first thing Adam has to do after he gets back from the video shoot is a special gig in LA, at some club a friend of his just opened. The guest list is pretty exclusive, and Kris has to cash in a couple of favours to get in without Adam knowing about him being there ahead of time.

(Sure, he could have just asked Adam, but it's been so long since Kris saw one of Adam's shows. It's more fun as a surprise.)

The club is filled to bursting, nothing like what Kris might think of as his usual crowd, but that's okay. Ultimately, he doesn't really believe in the concept of a comfort zone, unless it's in the shape of something you take with you. He's perfectly happy to stand in the back of a crowd who are mostly wearing body glitter and mesh tops in his v-neck and jeans and watch Adam blow the roof off the place.

The song he's belting out right now happens to be Kris's favourite track from his last album. It's the kind of good honest rock music that nobody ever makes any more, no irony involved. Bit of a throwback, sure, but with Adam's voice and the amazing production it had the song doesn't sound dated at all.

The first time Adam called and played him the demo, it didn't have real lyrics just yet. Kris listened to the whole thing and pronounced it brilliant on the spot.

 _"What about lyrics? Do you have anything yet?"_

 _"Not yet...but I figure inspiration will strike eventually."_

 _"This song is about sex," Kris had announced firmly, to the sound of Adam cracking up on the other end of the line._

(He might have been a little stoned at the time, but it hadn't been an off-the-wall comment. There was something about the beat and that melody, even then.)

Watching Adam perform _Addicted to You_ on stage like he's auditioning for the lead role in some really interesting pornography, Kris feels, for a very brief moment, the happy satisfaction of getting it right.

Maybe it's not the type of music he usually listens to, but that doesn't really matter. At a certain point, genre's kind of a silly restriction. As long as it moves him in some way – makes him happy or sad, makes him think or turns him on –

It's just good music.

Come to think of it, that's exactly how he feels about people too.

Adam on stage is a different creature, bright and wild and impossible to look away from. Watching him perform makes Kris thrum under the skin, like usual, like always.

It's – inspiring.

Times like these Kris wants to pray, give thanks to God for making this world the kind of place where someone like Adam could exist. It's not a matter of 'getting' him or whatever. He doesn't understand everything that goes on in Adam's head, but he doesn't have to.

Adam throws his head back for the final high note, the line of his throat stark against the collar of his black vest.

Kris mimes throwing underwear at the stage just as the crowd erupts.

  
* * *

  
After the show, Kris sneaks down to the bar to get himself a drink. The bartender, a tall blond wearing a lot of leather, takes one long look at him and starts grinning. A minute later, he ends up with something that seems like it could have been a Cosmo in a past life before two other cocktails mated with it, and a phone number under the glass when Kris picks it up to stare.

When he raises his eyebrows the guy just grins bigger, waving away his attempt to pay.

Which – okay. Kris smiles back. "Sure you don't want…?"

"I'm sure. Drink up."

With exaggerated caution, Kris picks the straw out of the swirly, colourful mess. The two, three lingering drops don't taste too bad when he licks them off, so he tries a small sip.

The cocktail tastes like the colour pink, which surprisingly isn't as gross as it sounds.

(The bartender stares at his mouth the entire time.)

Kris is the kind of famous where the flattering attention he gets in random public places usually isn't related to who he is. And he's more than okay with that. Even if it's superficial, at least it's honest.

When he doesn't feel like dealing with it, he's pretty good at flying under the radar. The proof is in the fact that Adam doesn't even know he's there until an hour later, when he finds Kris on his third drink, being hit on by two very tall drag queens, both of them loudly praising his various virtues and cooing when he blushes at the dirtier bits, and sweeps him up in a bear hug.

"Surprise!" Kris says, probably too loudly. Alcohol is so bad for his ability to moderate volume. "I came to see you."

Adam's chest shakes with his laugh. "You bastard, why didn't you tell me? I'd have gotten you VIP tickets."

His voice is uneven, a little loud just like Kris's, which means he's had a heck of a lot more to drink.

For some people, Adam can be a lot to handle. A little overwhelming, maybe. Kris gets that. But he's never felt it. Adam fills the space, always, and Kris likes that, likes that feeling right on the edge of being overwhelmed.

"VIP's boring," Kris replies, and buries his nose in the crook of Adam's neck and shoulder.

Adam smells like a box of make-up exploded on him, on top of his usual cologne, and he's still pretty sweaty from performing, but Kris doesn't care. It's comforting and familiar, and he clings on tighter when Adam tries to let him go. After a few seconds, Adam gets the hint.

"Hey, you're talking about one of my shows. No boredom allowed."

Adam's hand on his back feels enormous, like it's easily holding Kris up. When he tips his head up, the gleaming focus in Adam's answering gaze makes him catch his breath.

He drops his eyes to Adam's open shirt, his bare collarbone shiny with sweat, and wants to bite. Not that hard, just enough to make the skin go red, leave an indentation he can sooth with his tongue.

When it comes to Adam, Kris has always looked, never bothering to try and hide it.

Wanting something's not the problem. It's what you do about it that counts.

He always knew that, even before everything that happened during the past year. And _that_ \- that's something he's better off not thinking about tonight.

\----------------------------------

Adam's body is telling him he has maybe half an hour left before he crashes. It's the show and all the dancing he'd done after the show, plus the really excessive amounts of alcohol in his system right now.

"So tell me straight – am I a hot mess right now?"

He feels like a hot mess, but in the best way.

Kris's eyes snap up to his face, and he grins, a little hazily. "I think you look great," he says in that slow, deadly drawl he gets when he's tipsy, and Adam believes it.

That face could make him believe a lot of things.

  
* * *

  
Adam's not sure what time it is when they finally leave via the back entrance, not even the sharp night air doing anything to clear his head. He's more than a little drunk, enough to let Kris all but carry him out, but not enough to actually give him his entire weight.

In the back of the car, Kris pushes at him until he's more or less lying down, legs folded up awkwardly (because even the limo's not that big), head pillowed in Kris's lap. He drifts off like that, Kris's hands surprisingly steady as they card through his hair, feeling tired but warm.

  
* * *

  
Being tickled awake when drunk is, as it turns out, not particularly fun. He's just about sobered up enough to think about revenge, nowhere near sober enough to implement it. Thankfully for his dignity, Kris doesn't have to carry him from the limo into the house, but there's a fair bit of leaning involved.

It doesn't help that Adam drifts in and out of semi-consciousness multiple times as they go. When he opens his eyes, all the lights are far too bright, and he's standing in the hallway just outside his bedroom, arm still draped around Kris's shoulder.

"Fuck, ow. I'm awake."

"No, you're not," Kris says, sounding amused and indulgent.

"Seriously. Aren't you tired? Go to bed, I'm fine."

In response, Kris just shoves him into the room. Embarrassingly, Adam stumbles a step before he manages to locate the bed and wander in its general direction, immediately making himself look like a very drunk liar.

Once at the foot of the bed, he spends a good minute looking down in contemplation of his lace-up boots.

(Why'd he wear those again? They require far too much in the way of motor skills to take off when inebriated, even if they look amazing.)

Apparently looking straight down's not a great idea either. When his vision clears again from the dizzy spell, Kris is kneeling at his feet, hands sliding up his thighs.

Abruptly, higher brain function becomes much more difficult. And then there are other vital activities, like – breathing.

Kris doesn't seem to have noticed. He very meticulously unties the laces, moving with the exaggerated care and slowness of the consciously tipsy. When everything's undone, he sits back on his heels, examining Adam with clear, dark eyes from underneath the sweep of his lashes. "There."

It takes Adam a moment before he can even think of moving. Thankfully, the bed's right there, once he kicks the boots off, and Kris is there to tuck him in.

"Thank you," Adam says eventually, hushed. Anything else just feels wrong.

Even in the dim light, he can see the curve of Kris's smile, edged with something new and glorious and downright terrifying.

 _Oh._

"Kris, I – I don't - "

Kris's hand is pleasantly cool on his forehead, smoothing away the frown lines that had gathered there, his touch gentle but firm. "I know. Goodnight, Adam."

\----------------------------------

When he looks back on it later, Kris always thinks of that night as the turning point – the first time he'd looked at Adam and saw not just a vague possibility. The bone-deep certainty he'd felt, standing over Adam's enormous, ridiculous bed, and wanting nothing more than to kiss him good night – that's when he knew.

Kris believes in true love the same way he believes in God – unshakably, with only the very occasional crisis of faith. It's probably difficult to be an artist of any kind and not believe in at least the possibility of love, but as people who know him tend to say, Kris takes this sort of thing to extremes. When he thinks _I might be in love, I should do something about that_ , he doesn't mean it the same way other people do.

He's kind of an all or nothing guy.

The problem with all this: Adam's the nicest person ever right up until he's not, and Kris gets that because he's the same way. There are so many ways this could go wrong.

But. He's not just an interested spectator now, not any more. It's about time to go all in.

  
* * *

  
Julien rings the doorbell the next day just as Kris is making a late lunch.

Kris checks that he's fully dressed (old, beat-up jeans and an even older t-shirt, so – sloppy, but at least he's covered) before going up to let him in. He's not making that mistake again. Brad had mostly refrained from mocking him last time, but Kris suspects it would have been a different case altogether if he'd opened the door like that.

"…Kris."

Julien looks and sounds surprised, but not unhappy. Kris waves with his spatula.

"Yeah, hi. Come in, I'm just making some food. Adam had an early meeting, but he shouldn't be too long. I don't think he's recovered from last night's show yet."

He turns to head inside, expecting Julien to follow, but what he hears instead of footsteps is Julien's voice, pitched to carry, with anything in the tone that could be used as an indication of his mood carefully ironed out.

"You're staying with Adam? For how long?"

Kris pauses. There's an honest answer, and then there's _the_ honest answer. The question being: does he like Julien enough to give him the latter?

"Indefinitely," he says, just as evenly, and heads straight for the kitchen.

He left the pasta cooking, after all.

  
* * *

  
It takes Julien a few minutes to show up, just as Kris is taking the pot off the stove. Kris ignores him momentarily in favour of drowning the Hello Kitty print at the bottom of his bowl in spaghetti bolognese.

(Adam's terrifying kitchen contains an amazing range of china, most of which looks like it's never been used. Kris may or may not be picking a different set of bowls and plates every day just to make that point as obnoxiously as possible. Hence the Hello Kitty. For tomorrow he's found a plate in a dark corner of one of the pantries with Adam's face on it. _Someone_ 's obviously tried to hide it, but Kris's inventory of the kitchen had been very thorough.)

Food taken care of, he turns his attention back to Julien. Who's not an easy guy to read anyway, but today Kris is just not getting anything at all. Given the last thing Kris said to him, that's a little worrying.

Well, there's always the time-honoured ice-breaking technique taught by his mom. "Want some pasta?"

"No, thank you," Julien says, still giving him that unnerving stare.

Kris ducks his head, partly just to give himself a break from it. "Aw, why? Don't worry, unlike Adam's, my cooking is actually edible."

Julien laughs. "It's not that. A lot of things just became clear to me. I'm still processing, give me a minute."

 _Ah._

Sometimes, people turn out to be exactly as smart as Kris thinks they are. Which is both handy and problematic.

"You're going to get weird about me being here now, aren't you? Come on, don't be like that. This is totally non-threatening," Kris says lightly. He even puts the spatula down.

Nothing to see here, move along.

Kris likes Julien as a person, has ever since they first met. He doesn't want to cause problems for Adam and Julien. He also doesn't believe in lying about his intentions - and he's definitely got intentions, even if he wouldn't act on them unless Adam was single. Maybe for other people these two ideas would be mutually exclusive. For Kris, they're both true.

And Julien – Julien gets that, or as much of it as he can, probably, given how much he's missed.

"As non-threatening as a bear trap, princess, don't bullshit me."

"I'm not." It's been totally non-threatening. So far. There was no undermining of Adam and Julien's relationship over coffee this morning. He's not that kind of guy. "We've always been like this, Adam and me."

Heck, they were roommates for a while on a reality show and managed not to come out of it hating each other's guts. Their relationship's never been conventional, and it suits them just fine.

Kris just wants to move the goalposts a little.

When he looks up again, Julien is three steps closer and inspecting his pasta with far more care and attention than it deserves.

"You could at least pretend to be jealous of me. It wouldn't make any practical difference, but my ego would enjoy it," he says eventually, with a confessional, self-mocking twist to his voice that makes Kris want to wince.

Kris shakes his head. He almost wants to put a hand on Julien's shoulder, but that's about as safe as petting a shark right now. Keeping his distance is kind of important. "Why? I've got what I've got, and you've got what you have."

Julien holds up his hands. "Let's not compare. I feel slow enough right now as it is." He paces four, five steps away from Kris, turning sharply at the end, his gaze sharp and bright on Kris's face. "How long have you been in love with him?"

"I – " The crazy idea of denying it dies as quickly as it sprung up. It would just be – wrong. Disrespectful, even. "That's a hard question to answer."

Unexpectedly, that revives Julien's habitual smirk. "Okay. Would 'how long have you been trying to have sex with him' be easier?"

"I don't want to have sex with Adam."

He'd tack on 'not yet' but that's just redundant at this point.

Sex isn't the problem here. If somehow they were both completely different people and it was the main problem then things might be lot easier. After all, the attraction's already there. It's always been there.

Julien smacks his forehead in exasperation, but there's the beginning of a grin on his face. "Let me guess, last night he came home trashed, so you tucked him into bed, and made him coffee when he woke up feeling like shit this morning."

"Something like that," Kris shrugs. Actually he'd cooked breakfast too, but that's beside the point.

Julien shakes his head. "I don't get you at all. But here's something you might not know about me. The industry I work in is pretty cut-throat. You think music is bad, try working with a bunch of frustrated artists who are either too smart for their own good or think they are. You know how I've managed to do so well?"

"No, tell me. How?"

"I know when to duck," Julien says. He smiles, terrifyingly bright. "Goodbye, princess."

Kris feels a sudden chill go through him at the sight of Julien's retreating back. He's not quite sure what just happened, but he has a feeling that things just got messy.

  
* * *

  
He doesn't notice the green post-it left on top of his favourite Chucks until later. Julien had drawn a stick figure wearing a tiara with what looked like a blue ball-point pen. Underneath, in his messy, slanted handwriting:

 _My number, for when you want to resume hostilities._

Kris dutifully saves the number in his phone. He hesitates over the name field, finally typing in _in case of emergency break glass_ , because he's just that type of dork.

  
* * *

  
Kris leaves to go to a couple of meetings about his upcoming tour in the afternoon, which run long because they always do when Brian is involved (and shrieking about Kris's _"stubborn, crazy, starving artist ass, it's a good thing you're pretty because your brain's borderline defective"_ ). He doesn't mind arguing about these things, not when it's so important to get it right, but he's exhausted by the time he trudges inside the house.

Adam's already back, still dressed for going out when Kris finds him on the couch channel surfing.

He takes one look at Kris and starts frowning. "Bad day?"

Kris hadn't realized it was that obvious. He probably should have known that Adam would notice, though, whatever fooled everybody else. "Just tired. Do we have food?"

"Not really? We could get takeout," Adam says hopefully.

Kris is just as in favour of not moving for a while.

"Oh gosh, please. Thai?"

"Thai it is."

Kris collapses on the couch an arms length away from Adam, watching as he dials. He's so animated even on the phone, as if the vitality is something he can't quite help. It's something Kris's always appreciated about Adam, the unflagging energy that makes him so compelling to watch and has a sort of cheering effect on the people around him at the same time.

Speaking of which.

"Oh yeah, Julien came by earlier."

"Yeah? Did he say what for?" Adam says, rubbing at his eyes carelessly. He's definitely still feeling last night, even if he's determined not to show it.

Kris frowns. "You know what, he didn't."

He leaves it at that. The rest's up to Julien.

\----------------------------------

Julien leaves as abruptly as he arrived in Adam's life.

One day Adam comes downstairs and finds a painting delivered by courier. It's a gorgeous landscape, some deserted beach with a mountain range in the background, and Adam spends a while just admiring it before he gets around to reading the attached note -

 _Gone looking for inspiration somewhere pretty and sparsely populated. Told you I wouldn't overstay my welcome._

\- which makes him want to smash furniture, and he doesn't even know what the hell Julien's talking about.

"I think you've just been broken up with," Tommy says, when Adam shows him. "I'd say 'I told you so' about that guy but I'm not a dick. Come on, I need to hug you and then we need to go out."

"We do?" Adam says blankly. He's maybe a little shell-shocked.

"You're too sober. My usual solution for break-ups is Marilyn Manson or alcohol, and you don't like Marilyn Manson."

  
* * *

  
Lane catches them sneaking out of band rehearsal for the AMAs.

"Hello. Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Her disapproving look hasn't been getting much of a workout lately, but that apparently doesn't diminish its power, which is so impressive that Tommy actually steps in front of Adam like he's shielding him.

"Adam just got some bad news, okay? Really bad. He needs personal time."

Lane takes a long, hard look at Adam, her eyes softening at whatever fucked up expression she finds on his face. "Oh. Should I ask?"

"Ask Julien," Adam says flatly. "You're going to have to anyway, I don't know what he's going to say to the paps next time they hound him."

Lane bites her lip, her gaze sweeping over Adam's face again. "Go. Just be back on time tomorrow."

She doesn't have to say it. Adam's not going to let anything fuck up a televised performance. He's a professional.

  
* * *

  
For the first couple of years, Adam loved pretty much all of it, everything that came with this crazy life – maybe not the unwanted controversy, but other than that - never being in the same place for a week, all the demands for appearances, attention, even the insane fans, he embraced it all and enjoyed every minute.

These days, he sometimes regrets being that open. Celebrity's a funny thing that way – there's no going backwards, not unless he wants to quit the game completely. And he's not ready for that, maybe won't ever be.

He dreams, sometimes, especially when he's on the road, and wakes up not quite able to remember what it had been about, only the emotions from the dream lingering like an aftertaste. Most of the time that feeling is the acute sense that he's being watched, however many cameras from all directions all ready to go in for the close-up, with a direct feed to the watching masses.

(It's a dream he's had ever since Idol.)

The 'let them gawk' mentality is part and parcel of being famous, but it has very little to do with the place in him that can only be filled by music, the part that made him need to do this for a living. And the celebrity part of this game's played havoc with his personal life, from Drake onwards.

When everything went to hell with Sam, Adam actually spent quality time wondering if he was responsible for turning Sam from the bright-eyed, fresh-faced, un-Hollywood-as-could-be pretty boy into the guy making shit up for the gossip sites and turning up drunk at the trashiest parties money could get a person into. Brad had had to set him straight on that one.

 _"That kid already had some serious issues when you met him, okay? Him not being able to handle the bright lights and turning into a grade-A asshole - none of that is on you."_

Brad's probably right, but Adam was thoroughly sick of 'it's not you, it's who you are to the outside world' by then. Maybe that's why he tried to find someone who really didn't give a damn.

Trouble is - maybe he succeeded a little too much.

Adam doesn't want to know what Brad would say about Julien. Whatever, he went into it with eyes wide open, and he's owning up to the consequences of his dubious judgement. With alcohol.

  
* * *

  
Kris had to tape a talk show appearance that day, and Adam can still see traces of TV make-up on his face when he comes to the door to take Adam off Tommy's hands.

"I'm fine. Seriously," Adam says grumpily.

He knows it's been a while since they were last on the road, but somehow Tommy always underestimates his tolerance for alcohol. Something about being half his size. And yet he's the one swaying on the spot without Adam's weight leaning on him. "I still don't get how you sober up so fast. Okay, I'm off."

"You sure you should be walking around?" Kris says, brows furrowed in concern.

"Yeah, I got places to be. Don't worry, I called a cab already." Tommy gestures vaguely in Adam's direction. "Make sure he sleeps? Talk to you later."

Kris frowns at the front door once Tommy's gone. "That – was weird. What's going on?"

"I think Julien broke up with me," Adam says.

Kris gets this blankly shocked look on his face for a long moment. Just as Adam's starting to wonder – he wasn't expecting that extreme a reaction – it's gone as if it never was, and he just looks sad.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine, I never expected him to stick around, you know? I just…didn't expect it to be this soon."

A part of him always knew they had very different ideas about relationships. It was just shouted down by the part that insisted he could change Julien's mind.

(Being wrong about these things really fucking sucks.)

Kris always knows when what he needs more than any words is a hug, just simple human contact, his hands sliding up Adam's back, head buried in Adam's shoulder.

It's a while before he wants to move.

"Let's go inside. Have you had dinner yet?"

"Ate before I came back. I'm getting some soda, you want?"

"Sure."

  
* * *

  
There's an old episode of the Simpsons on Adam's enormous TV that neither Kris nor Adam are paying attention to. Adam started out sitting up, but that lasted all of five minutes. Kris's obviously had a long day too, if the way he's leaning against Adam is any indication.

Actually, he's mostly on top of Adam by this point, but it's not like Adam minds. This is what passes for comfortable and normal for him, these days. Which isn't too bad at all.

It takes Kris a very long time to move the ten inches necessary to reach the remote. He manages to swat at it and miss twice – "stop laughing, I'm tired," - before finally grabbing it and muting the TV.

"Adam, I – "

"I don't want to talk about it," Adam says, and even he's surprised by how abrupt he sounds. It's not the alcohol talking. He just really, really doesn't want to think right now. Especially not about that. Kris might have the best of intentions, but he'd still be poking an open wound.

Kris's eyes flutter closed, and he sighs. "I know why Julien left."

Adam flinches. He can't hear about how fucked up that relationship was right now – not even from Kris.

"Don't say it. Don't say anything. Just - let me wallow for a while, okay? I promise I'll be better company tomorrow."

Thankfully, his attempt at a laugh comes out mostly normal.

Kris drags himself closer in response, until he can put his arms around Adam in a slightly awkward hug. "That's okay. You're heart-broken, you're allowed," he says, quiet like he's telling a secret.

"No, I'm not," Adam says sharply. "It was never that serious."

Somehow, that wipes the smile off Kris's face. "Yes, it was," he says, solemn and even a little reproachful.

Who's Adam trying to kid, though? Of course it was. He'd be less pissed if he cared as little as Julien apparently did. But -

"I'd rather forget that right now."

Kris drops his head onto Adam's shoulder, murmuring his next words into Adam's shirt. "If you want, I'll never mention his name again."

Something about the way Kris says it makes Adam shiver beneath the skin. Like he's offering a lot more than he's letting on.

"Just for today," he says, trying for casual.

Kris nods. "Okay then. Wanna talk about something else?"

"Yeah, can we?" Adam says, a little too fast. Actually - "Something's been bugging me."

Kris raises his head just enough for Adam to see his curious expression. "Yeah? Spill."

"You let me keep believing you were straight for years. Why?"

Adam didn't really mind when he found out – a person's sexual orientation is their own business, et cetera – but it's also true that a part of him felt a little cheated. After everything they've talked about all these years, it's one hell of an omission.

Kris widens his eyes, his face a picture of innocence. "I thought it was obvious. Not – I mean, all those conversations we had about hot guys or whatever, did you think I was just humouring you?"

"You could have been a little more insistent," Adam says, his valiant attempt at a stern expression completely ruined by a helpless grin.

"Yeah, but it wasn't really an issue, you know?" Kris sits up far enough to look Adam in the eye, suddenly serious. "And it was so trivial next to the crap you have to put up with, especially back when we were on Idol. So the married guy's bi-in-theory, big deal. I thought about saying something a couple of times, but I didn't want people to get the wrong idea. Which is funny, because I really had _no idea_ the kind of crazy crap people assume when they know you're bi."

And that, Adam definitely gets. For a supposedly progressive day and age, they really aren't doing too well with dispelling damaging and insulting stereotypes. Maybe Adam gets a warped view of things living in LA and being in the business that he's in – entertainment trades on stereotypes so much of the time, after all. Maybe not. All he knows is that being out still isn't a cakewalk. And Kris chose to walk into all that head on, as soon as he started dating Jonathan.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I think I can forgive you," Adam says, finally, with mock seriousness, but meaning it all the same.

He gets a quick glimpse of Kris's brilliant smile, then there's the brief press of dry lips against his forehead. "Thanks."

Adam takes a deep breath, lets it out. He could really use a joint, but failing that, Kris is doing a pretty good job of winding him down.

The remote's right next to his left hand, the TV now showing a hostage thriller, the kind of thing neither of them have the attention span for right now. Adam contemplates turning it off completely, eventually deciding that he doesn't even want to move that much. He just lies there and breathes, slightly out of time with Kris's little puffs of air against his chest and shoulder.

"Hey, Adam, remember when you shaved your head?" Kris whispers, breaking the silence.

"I'd rather not," Adam replies, keeping his voice down too. It kind of feels like they're back in the Idol mansion, having one of their late night chats.

"I'm surprised Brad or Danielle didn't stage an intervention."

Adam takes a moment to think of the appropriate comeback. A mention of the Unfortunate Hair Incident deserves the big guns. "Like the time Katy had to fly back from Vancouver to make you start shaving again?"

"No fair bringing that up," Kris whines.

"I believe I made it fairly clear at the time that I wasn't going to let it go," Adam says, and he can't help the laugh that bubbles up when Kris starts butting his head lightly against Adam's chest in response.

When he settles down against Adam again, Kris's breathing starts evening out, and Adam's just wondering if he's actually managed to fall asleep when he starts talking again, eyes still closed, so quietly it's almost a whisper.

"Are you getting back in the studio again soon? You don't have to tell me, I'm just curious because - well, you know how I felt about your last album."

Adam grins. "Still have the email saved."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. I don't know, it hasn't been happening. And I've got all these other offers I don't know what to do with. Hosting and acting cameos and shit."

Normally, Adam jumps at that stuff – there's nothing stopping him from at least trying everything once, and getting offers for different types of work is never a bad thing. But he did promise himself a break, sometime around now.

Kris hums thoughtfully. "Wanna know what I think?"

Silly question.

"Of course."

"I think the way you just said that might be your answer."

Adam sighs. "Honestly, I do enjoy all the extras, but it's just been a long fucking year."

"Nothing wrong with a break, Mr Hardest Working Man in Showbiz," Kris says. He's teasing, but there's all the honest affection and concern in the world colouring his soft voice, and Adam can't help but feel warmed by that.

"We'll see."


	6. don't leave home

_"Jonathan, did you leave the_ Transformers _box set on the top shelf?"_

 _"I might have - sorry! Do you want me to get it down?" Jonathan replies from the kitchen, and because he's a good guy the teasing comment about Kris's height is only implied by his tone, not spoken out loud._

 _Kris rolls his eyes, grinning. "That'd be nice. And before you say anything, I could totally have reached it if someone hadn't left it on top of the_ TMNT _box." When he hears Jonathan's low laugh coming from the doorway, he stretches both arms up and waves them in the general direction of the shelf to demonstrate. So near, yet so far._

 _He's not expecting Jonathan's sharp intake of breath. Or the way he's looking at Kris, sort of surprised and hungry._

 _It takes Kris a moment, and then he follows the direction of Jonathan's stare, down to where his shirt had ridden up over his stomach, exposing a neat row of dark, finger-shaped bruises over the pale skin of his hip. In the afternoon sunlight they're stark -_

 _But not out of place, Kris thinks with a sudden flash of heat, remembering how those marks got there. If he grabs Jonathan's wrist now he could map those elegant guitarist's fingers to the exact place where they had been digging in, last night._

 _Judging by the way Jonathan's unconsciously flexing his fingers, they're on the same page right now._

 _"You can, if you want."_

 _"I don't know what you're talking about," Jonathan murmurs, but there's red high on his cheekbones and he's still staring, pupils wide and blown, in this fixed, intense way that makes Kris want to - provoke. Just a little._

 _"Leave marks, I mean. It's - I like it."_

 _When he looks up again, Jonathan's suddenly a lot closer, crowding him back against the shelves. It's not the most comfortable, but when Jonathan's kissing him like that, like he needs to be, the surroundings sort of cease to matter, and -_

He really needs to change his alarm tone back from when Cale last got his hands on Kris's phone. Waking up to the Imperial March is weird enough without it having been that kind of dream -

And of course as soon as he thinks that every detail comes rushing back, everything as vivid as it had been in his memory of that day.

Well, Kris's subconscious officially hates him this morning, and he's not even up yet.

Some things are just too hard to forget about, even when you try.

  
* * *

  
Coffee and his morning sweep of email, news sites and TMZ brings a different kind of headache.

 _"Hey Julien, where's Adam?"_

 _"We're no longer together. I know you all want to know why, but these things take time to explain. Simmer down, I'm sure there's a drug overdose story somewhere that's much more worth your time. I'll talk when I want to, and not a moment before. Bye for now, gentlemen."_

Just the thought of the conversation Adam's probably having with his publicist right now makes Kris wince in sympathy.

He finishes two cups of coffee before picking up his phone.

  
* * *

  
 _Seriously? KA_

He gets a reply within ten minutes.

 _So you did get my note. It's what you wanted, isn't it? Enjoy your peace and quiet._

With that hovering over his head? Sure he will.

 _You're kind of evil._

The next text's waiting for him when he gets done loading up the dishwasher.

 _Pot, kettle. No one likes it when the bad guy wins._

Kris laughs. He'd protest the casting there, but from Julien's point of view, it does kind of fit.

 _Yeah, but it still happens._

  
* * *

  
Kris doesn't really believe that Julien's just given up. If he was in the same position, he definitely wouldn't have. And whatever differences there are between them, how they feel about Adam isn't one of them.

This is just a temporary retreat. Whatever ground he gives up to Kris as a result, he meant to. Which is a little scary, really, because that level of bloody-mindedness? It's pretty rare.

That's fine. Kris can play a long game too. He's kind of an expert.

\----------------------------------

Neither Lane nor Adam's publicist can get anything out of Julien, which Lane for one has taken as a good sign.

"Well, at least he doesn't want to tell the world about your dick."

Adam thinks it's trouble. Even though he now suspects he doesn't understand Julien nearly as much as he thought, Adam probably still knows him better than most people ever get to.

"Yet. No, actually, he's not the type to go for that. So that's one thing we don't have to worry about."

Lane throws her hands up in frustration. "Do you have any idea what he's playing at?"

"Maybe a little."

At first, he was just angry and hurt and there was no making sense of it at all. But now, after getting angry, drinking to excess, telling Tommy God knows what, and sleeping on it, he's starting to have some sneaking suspicions.

But they're just hunches, for now.

"You're not going to call him and ask?"

"No."

Not with that farewell. And only part of it's pride. The rest – he doesn't even know what he'd say, right now.

  


> The first envelope arrives that night, addressed to Adam. There's no note, just a four-panel comic with only the first panel filled in.
> 
> The scene depicted in the rough sketch: two figures smiling at each other, the shorter of them wearing a crooked crown.

  
Kris never officially moved in. More of his stuff just starts appearing over time, and it's not like Adam doesn't have room, so they've just fallen into a more or less comfortable routine.

After three weeks of co-habiting, Adam concludes that living with Kris these days is a mixed bag.

Pro: Kris is not only a good cook, but actually seems to enjoy the process itself. His enthusiasm is enough to rope Adam into helping when he's around.

Con (?): He wears old pajama pants that look like they're in constant danger of falling off his hips and little white undershirts that might as well not be there around the house. (He's probably not doing it on purpose. Probably.)

Pro: Watching TV or movies with Kris is fun. He doesn't talk too much, laughs at all the right parts, shares his popcorn and sometimes likes to rest his head in Adam's lap.

Con (?): Against all sense and reason, Kris is actually scarily good at poker. It's a combination of the most amazing luck Adam has ever seen, the kind of competitive edge he keeps carefully hidden 98% of the time, and an impressive willingness to get underhanded. Adam knows better than to play against him unless he's in the mood to be deliberately cockteased to distraction. Which –

Well, sometimes, he is. It's fun, and he can parry, to a certain extent, right up until they hit the wall constructed out of Adam's refusal to cross any lines.

Kris also sings very loudly in the shower, is surprisingly tidy for someone so lazy about things like personal grooming and doesn't really understand boundaries.

Some of that Adam already knew, some he's just discovering now.

Most importantly, Kris is great to bounce ideas off of, whether they're to do with music (in which case he'll usually have vocal input) or staging or anything at all in the business (in which case he might not say much but Adam still gets to sound his ideas out). They've been doing this for each other for years, but seldom face to face, and the immediacy is nice.

Only – and this is definitely problematic - he's also a very effective diversion from thinking about what the fuck Julien's up to, partly through being his thoroughly distracting self, and partly because Adam doesn't really get what he's up to either.

  


> We hear this newly single former sweetheart of Middle America has shacked up with his rockstar BFF from the sadly cancelled televised cheese-feast (oops, we meant singing competition) they both competed in.

  
Kris walks into the entertainment room at the most inconvenient moment possible, taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on the arm of the couch before throwing himself down on it too.

"Ooh, is that the X-Factor?"

The scary part is that Adam can't tell if the excitement in his voice is genuine.

"I swear I was just about to change the channel," he says, which is completely true.

"No, leave it on. Is that guy covering Britney?"

"I think – yes. Badly, but yes."

Adam doesn't do that many covers these days, with four albums worth of material, but it's not exactly a skill that you lose. Even with his own material, he's never seen the point of leaving a song alone, just singing it as it's written. Playing with the limits of a melody, changing up the feel, it's all part of the fun, just as much as the choreography and the costumes.

The blond pretty boy on TV is trying to come across as ironic without fully committing to the performance, which just makes him seem like a coward.

"Yeah, when you pick a song like that, you gotta sing it like you mean it, you know?" Kris says, grinning, thus proving that somehow, despite their stylistic differences, they're still in full agreement on the basic approach.

"That kid's far too self-conscious to go there. Shame, really, he's got a nice voice."

That's the thing he'd figured out early about these shows, though. Talent's only a small part of it. Gauging the public mood and knowing who you are makes the fundamental difference. Being smart about that got both Adam and Kris to where they are today.

Kris nods. "Uh huh. Should have gone Shakira, maybe, not Britney. What was it - her first big hit? How'd it go again?" And before Adam can even open his mouth to give Kris hell for his longstanding obsession - "Ah, right - _baby I would climb the Andes solely to count the freckles on your body..._ "

Adam groans. "How old is that song?"

Kris tilts his head, all sass and crooked smile. "It's a _classic_ , show some respect."

"I think you just did unmentionable things to the word 'classic'."

Kris opens his mouth to reply, but he's cut off by the blond on screen throwing an epic tantrum at the judges, screaming, tears and all.

"Kids these days," Adam says loftily. "That's ridiculous."

Kris chuckles low in his throat. "Not that we aren't frequently ridiculous ourselves, but – "

"Ah, but we know when we're ridiculous. Self-awareness makes all the difference."

Adam spends most of his time being ridiculous in public. It's kind of part of his job description. But he does it with a smile and a wink, with the knowledge that it's his responsibility to go that bit over the top. He's not always that person.

The kid now being dragged off by security on screen is either extremely lacking in any sense of self or a very good plant.

"It's kind of hard to watch this stuff and not wonder, isn't it?" Kris says abruptly. His expression is still perfectly mild, but there's calculation behind that look, too, even if most people wouldn't recognise it.

It was there back in the Idol days, too.

"About how much is going on behind the scenes? Yeah. We've had the magic ruined for us."

When you've played the system once -

"Condemned to never being able to watch quality reality TV in peace. So awful," Kris says.

The smile that goes with that conspiratorial tone makes Adam want to stare, always has -

Kris doesn't sound like a media-trained reality show product when he talks. No matter what he's saying, it always sounds like he's just - talking. Easily guiding the conversation towards cute little anecdotes instead of ever actually revealing anything, and all of it feels like he's just thoughtlessly letting words fall out of his mouth.

That's what it sounds like, but Adam knows. They _are_ both media-trained within an inch of their lives. That's why actively ignoring the Idol machine's early attempts at behaviour modification always feels like a triumph.

\- and even the very first time Kris smiled at him - not the real first time, but the first time he can remember - it hadn't been a big smile, just a little quirk of the lips. He remembers the way it disarmed him, remembers recognising the same sort of charm he might use to ease the way with a stranger in someone completely different.

  
* * *

  
Adam walks into the kitchen the next morning to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and the sound of Kris arguing with his publicist by phone.

"A shoot for which magazine? Please tell me it's not Cosmo."

He registers their conversation, but it doesn't really _process_ until he's halfway through his first cup of coffee.

"Sure, but what's the point?" Kris is now saying, sounding exasperated. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. See you later."

Adam waits until he's finished making frustrated faces. It's the least he can do, given Kris's heroic actions involving the coffee machine. "Morning."

"Morning," Kris says, sounding barely awake himself. "Your fridge needs restocking. But there's some bacon left if you want."

Adam sets his near-empty mug down on the bench in favour of investigating the food. "Thanks. What did you mean, 'what's the point'?"

"If I'm doing it, there's gotta be a point. Else why bother?" Kris says, viciously stabbing his innocent strip of bacon.

"God, I don't know - for fun?"

"The photoshoots aren't the fun part."

Adam throws his hands up, exasperated. "Look, I get that you need to feel like a tortured artist - "

Kris throws his head back, laughing so hard he barely stays upright. "That's - that's not what I'm saying at all. Oh man, _Adam_. Come on."

"Are you trying to say that people from American Idol can't be tortured artists? Harsh," Adam says, smiling despite himself.

"But true. You were right back then - not caring about anything other than the music just led to other people making those decisions for me, and I don't like that any more. But that makes it more like work, not less."

For someone whose life motto could well be 'why not?' while on tour, Kris has a long list of things he doesn't do when doing promo.

"I care about the music I make. Everything else is fluff."

Adam admires that, when he isn't rolling his eyes at Kris's stubborn streak. "The fluff is useful. Magazine spreads, to give an obvious example."

"Yeah, but. Looking pretty on paper - it's got nothing to do with any talent I have." Kris wrinkles his nose. "Being - being _that_ doesn't really mean anything."

Because in a way, he still doesn't get it. It would be cute if it wasn't disturbing.

"Of course it means something. It means you don't ever have to apologize, for one," Adam says, smiling indulgently. "People just...forgive."

 _Don't even deny it._

Kris shrugs. "Maybe. It's a stupid thing to rely on, though. There's, you know, the aging process."

"Yes, because you're so old now," Adam says dryly.

"Isn't thirty old in Hollywood?"

"Yes, and I'm ancient."

"Distinguished, Adam. You're distinguished. Get it right."

"Stop making me sound like Joan Rivers."

  


> ...speculation is mounting that Lambert will take a break from his music career following the critical and sales success of his last album _The Masquerade_ to focus on exploring other avenues of fame.

  
Going on Idol and trying to make a go of it was Adam being a responsible adult. That's why, after buying a nice house, he's been relatively careful with the rest of the money, no matter what the tabloids might say. That's why he's worked his ass off these past five years in between too-short vacations, grasping any opportunity that came by with both hands.

If there's one showbiz type he doesn't get, it's the lazy fuckers who don't have any sense of how fleeting their 15 minutes might be.

So Adam doesn't mean to lose touch – it just happens. There's always too much going on, he hardly has enough time to get through the professional obligations, and increasingly, after that he just doesn't want to deal with other people. His close friends are still mostly the same people from the early days, who still remember who he is underneath the high-gloss photo finish. Somehow, some time along the way, trusting strangers turned into an event in itself.

(Adam never forgets, these days, that people always have ulterior motives.)

He's not complaining – he chose this, it's been fun, but he's a little tired. Along with everything else that's happened in the past year, it's probably a good time to take stock. Think about what he wants to be doing for the next five years.

  
* * *

  
He comes home from a long and fruitless meeting with Lane and a couple of RCA people to find Kris packing.

"Radio shows! Don't you love them?"

He'd raise his eyebrows, but Kris is dead serious. "Better you than me. Wait, you're missing the AMAs for – "

Kris grins. "You know how I feel about awards shows. I'm gonna be sorry to miss your performance, though."

"Letting yourself be seen a little more wouldn't kill you."

Adam's not giving up on that one, even if it is a lost cause.

The stubborn set to Kris's jaw softens, his expression going sheepish. "I know. But if I went Brian would want me to bring a date. By which he'd mean a girl, but even he didn't want to say that to my face."

Adam raises his eyebrows. "You suddenly have a problem with dating girls?"

"No, not at all. I just don't think I should. Date right now, I mean," Kris says quietly, not looking at Adam. "It's…it wouldn't be fair."

Not for the first time, Adam has to fight back the urge to wish very, very bad things on Jonathan O'Hara.

"No one can blame you for that," he says instead, and tugs Kris closer, letting his body do the talking. Kris melts easily against him, and for a long, long moment everything is still.

Then Kris stirs, working an arm free and sliding it into the pocket of his jeans. "Oh, I almost forgot."

"Hmm?"

After some fiddling, Kris hands Adam his phone. There's Katy, tiny and adorable in a sundress, making a face at the camera. The guy with a hand on her shoulder is tall, well-built with a kind-looking, handsome face.

Adam raises his eyebrows. "Is that - "

"Katy's new guy, yep."

"Nice."

Kris grins broadly. "That's what I said."

He sounds fine, but - "You're really okay with this?"

"What kind of hypocrite would I be if I wasn't? And, you know, jealousy was never an issue for us. You know."

Adam does know, probably better than most.

> The next envelope arrives that morning, this time with the second panel filled in. In this one, the taller figure with anime hair from the first panel is depicted kissing a different man, one who is clutching a book instead of wearing a crown.

Kris hadn't been lying to Adam – he really does like radio shows. Sure, there's a lot of travel and not very much playing of music, but he gets to meet lots of different people: fans, other artists, DJs. The travel and waiting is a little – okay, a lot – more awkward these days, but they manage. He and Jonathan see each other as little as possible outside the actual shows now, which helps.

(At first, they avoided each other because being left in private together seemed to trigger either an extreme inability to interact at all or end in bite marks and finger-shaped bruises. And when they managed to stop doing that, it was just hard to look Jonathan in the eye, because Kris recognised misery in them far too often.)

Speaking of –

"Oh. Is that for me?"

Jonathan straightens up in front of Kris's guitar case, the piece of paper still clutched in his hand. "Kris, I wasn't – "

He's still not looking up.

Kris sighs. "You can just tell me, you know. Whatever it is you want to say."

"That's impossible," Jonathan says quietly. "All I'd do in front of you is apologize."

Kris has to swallow past a sudden lump in his throat before he's able to speak again. "There's nothing to be sorry for."

"Maybe not. But I'd just keep saying it, and try to stop myself from thinking about how much I still want to kiss you silly."

Kris has to close his eyes at that.

"See? Better left unsaid. I'm an idiot, but you already knew that. I just thought – you deserve to know that none of it was you."

Kris's laugh sounds brittle, even to himself. "You sure?"

"Of course. I just – I couldn't – "

"It's like…having everything you want and then realizing you can't deal with it, right?"

Jonathan nods, eyes wide and over-bright.

Kris smiles. "Yeah, I know what that's like. You didn't know me when I was married, towards the end."

\----------------------------------

The AMA performance went off without a hitch ( _and_ this time they finally let him have fire on stage), but Adam's wound tight from days of rehearsal, then the performance, then everything else that comes with a big awards show. The afterparties were worse than usual this year, which didn't help.

Kris got home from his round of radio shows when Adam was still doing his make-up in his suite and went straight into the shower, by the sounds of things. By the time he runs into Adam in the hallway, still dripping water onto the carpet, Adam's just about ready to head out.

"Oof."

The hug he gets as a greeting almost knocks the wind out of him. Kris pulls back not very soon after, giving Adam a thorough once-over.

"Going out?"

Adam grins. "Yeah, I seriously need to let off steam."

"I say you deserve a little fun," Kris says. "Can I tag along?"

Adam casts a critical eye over Kris's post-shower outfit, stopping at the baby pink plaid shirt. "Not if you're wearing that."

He expects indignation (sometimes Kris is very protective of the plaid) but Kris just smirks and starts unbuttoning the shirt. Adam limits his response to raised eyebrows with an effort – far be it for him to interrupt such an event.

Underneath he's wearing a clingy white tank top, the arc of the collar stopping just above the outline of his pecs.

"How about now?" Kris says, rocking back on his heels.

Adam pretends to consider the question very deeply until Kris hits up with the rolled-up shirt.

"Fine, but I'm fixing your hair first."

Kris pouts. "What's wrong with my hair?"

 _Where to begin._

"We're going to be here all night if you really want an answer to that. Yes or no?"

Kris's smile is so bright and appears so suddenly that Adam's taken aback. "Yes."

  
* * *

  
Adam has to choose his fun pretty carefully these days, unless he wants it spoilt by cameraphones and paparazzi, but even with the extra caution they get photographed entering the club.

Adam ignores the questions about Julien, Kris ignores the questions about Jonathan, and both of them smile and say absolutely nothing useful at the questions about the two of them.

Once they get inside, it actually feels a little quieter. There's music thumping through the speakers, but even that seems more restful than the flashbulbs and shouted, intrusive questions.

Prohibition isn't precisely Adam's idea of a wild time, but it is his idea of a nice place to take friends. The 1920s décor is lovely, the drinks are great, and the beautiful people just this side of too cool to care about what the possibly famous amongst them are up to. It's great when he actually wants a degree of privacy.

At least once they're inside, anyway.

" - you realize what this is going to look like. You with me," Adam says, leaning close and keeping his voice low.

Kris gives him a surprised look, like it hadn't even occurred to him. "I don't care. _We_ know there's nothing weird going on. It's not like I'm going to stick by your side all night and ruin your fun."

"I wasn't worried about that."

Kris grins. "But you thought you'd have to babysit me, don't lie." Okay, maybe a little. New place and all. "Which is stupid, by the way."

"Really. Okay." Adam has to fight back a smirk. Kris with a point to prove – there's half his evening's worth of entertainment. "We each make our own fun. Deal?"

Kris tilts his head, thoughtful and maybe a little amused. "Sure."

Adam kisses him on the side of the head to seal the deal, unwinds the arm he had around Kris's wrist and busies himself attracting the attentions of the bartender.

  
* * *

  
An hour in, Adam has: one of the best cocktails he's had in LA, a phone number from the bartender with the gorgeous arms and shy grin, and a cute guy to dance with.

The cute guy being a (very, very) familiar face doesn't hurt, either.

"When did you get here?" Adam says, bending his head to speak directly into Tommy's ear. He doesn't need to get that close, but it's always fun to make Tommy shiver and move closer like he can't help it.

"Lane told me you'd be here. Thought I'd check up on you. Good thing I did, too. What's Kris up to?"

Adam very determinedly doesn't glance in the direction of the bar. "Kris can take care of himself."

Tommy laughs into Adam's shoulder. "That's not what I meant. He's acting weird, couldn't you tell?"

Kris has been weird by usual standards ever since he moved in, really, but there's nothing unexpected about that.

"Yeah, that break-up really fucked him up."

"Again, not what I meant," Tommy says, pulling back from Adam far enough to look him in the face. There's a strange look in his eyes for a second, like he's really worried about something, but it's there and gone in a flash, then he's just regular old Tommy again, red lips drawing up at the corners. "Anyway, I'm glad you're back to normal. Didn't like seeing you sad over that asshole."

"Did I say we were talking about that again?" Adam says, aiming for jokey and landing somewhere near defensive. Brilliant. "I thought we agreed not to."

"Sorry, my bad," Tommy says quickly. He's not contrite, because for some reason five years ago he decided to become Adam's agony aunt and that includes asking unpleasant questions, but he's not the type to ruin a good time, either. "Um - wanna go watch Kris flirt?"

As distractions go, it's not bad. Kris is fun to watch at work, partly because the way he gets at people is so completely different to Adam's preferred methods, even though they're more or less doing the same thing.

For example. The bartender who had served Adam earlier and smiled up at him under his lashes when Adam leaned in close to order is now having an animated conversation with Kris about the cocktail he's making, and flushing a little under Kris's steady, avid gaze.

By the time Adam gets there, Tommy having disappeared with a friend ( _"I'll be back in ten, don't go anywhere,"_ ) the bartender's finally moved on.

"Let me guess, that one was free."

Kris starts at his voice, but the smile he turns on Adam is brilliant, a little sly and a lot affectionate. "I think he just forgot to charge me, actually. Saw him give you his number earlier."

"And those two things are related…how?"

"If you're aiming for Adam Lambert, then why settle for anything else?" Kris says, toasting Adam with his drink before taking a long sip. Adam watches the line of his throat as he swallows and has a sudden flashback to seeing those paparazzi pictures when Jonathan had been mouthing his way down, just right _there_.

(He'd wondered if Kris would like being bitten there before he could stop himself.)

Kris flirts all the time. Sometimes he means it. Sometimes it's a defensive mechanism. Sometimes he's not thinking about it at all.

And sometimes, Kris just wants his attention, in the mildest, most laid-back way possible, and he's a little careless in how he goes about getting it.

It takes tossing back the rest of his drink, but Adam manages an easy grin after that. "You're having too much fun."

"No idea what you're talking about," Kris says, playing up the wide-eyed innocence, not that it's convincing in the least, not with the flush disappearing down below his collar and the smirk he's barely suppressing now. In this mood, he inhabits his body even more completely than usual, so careless it becomes a kind of grace.

Adam has this theory: some people are just magical. By which he means they give off positive energy, and he can tell because he's one of them, and everybody he's ever fallen for – and everybody he _could_ have fallen for - has been like that too.

He's convinced this is why he and Kris make such good friends.

"You've got a bit of – "

Kris slides closer and catches Adam's wrist with one hand, tugging until he can duck his head and kiss Adam's fingers, open mouthed, tongue darting out to swipe across the tips to catch the few drops of liquor.

Adam has to remind himself to breathe.

Sometimes, the depth of Kris's oral fixation is seriously impressive. Almost as impressive as his alternative methods of demanding attention, which are going to get him into trouble one of these days.

"Stop. Tell me what's wrong."

Adam puts his arm around Kris's waist, not very tightly, his hand coming to rest just above the small of Kris's back, where the exposed slice of smooth, tanned skin had been taunting him all night. Kris relaxes all over when Adam strokes his fingers along there, pressing himself closer, blunt nails digging into Adam's side through his shirt, lips brushing his jaw, then the slightest hint of teeth, giggling when Adam goes still at the contact.

If Adam moves now, he's going to have Kris up against the nearest wall in the next 30 seconds. And Kris – Kris would just give him that look, the one that's a dare and a plea all at once. In this mood, he's permissive to a fault, and that's always dangerous.

(The single most dangerous thing about Kris has always been that permissiveness. The way he'd look up at Adam, sometimes, like they were the only ones in the room. The way he leans into every touch, without fail. Like he'd take anything Adam's willing to give and savour it.)

"Kris."

He can feel Kris shiver at the way his name came out, low and a very particular kind of demanding. There's another moment when neither of them move, and then Kris swallows hard, looking away.

"Yeah, alright, you win."

"And?"

"The show I did today – that was the last one."

Adam thinks _last one what?_ Then he remembers.

"Jonathan's done after today?"

"Yep. Still wanna tell me to stop?"

Kris smiles slowly, the kind of expression that matches his slow, relaxed drawl, and it would all be so convincing but for the hectic light in his eyes.

 _Yes._

But Adam doesn't get to worry about that. At least, not as anything more than a very concerned friend.

"No. Go have fun. Just don't do anything I wouldn't do."

  
* * *

  
Tommy has the most inconvenient timing in the world that somehow makes it impossible to keep anything from him.

"You saw everything, didn't you?"

"Sure did. Do you have any idea what you're doing with him?"

"Not a clue," Adam says. It'd be funny if it weren't true.

\----------------------------------

Kris reminds himself to stop drinking after this one. They make the cocktails strong. He should have known, though – Adam did pick the place, even if Kris suspects he did it with Kris's supposedly delicate sensibilities in mind.

Tommy appears out of nowhere next to him. "Okay, Adam's on the dance floor, good. Hi, Kris. I'm buying you a drink."

His tone makes it clear it's not optional.

"…okay, sure."

Two minutes later, it's also clear that Tommy's idea of an appropriate drink for a night out is a little different from Kris's. Kris sips at his glass very, very cautiously.

Tommy downs half of his in one go. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask - what the fuck are you doing?"

There's no need to ask what the problem is. Kris would have to be a lot drunker to misunderstand that.

"You have to know - you know I'd never do anything to hurt him."

"Intentionally, sure. Fuck up and I'll make your life hell," Tommy says evenly. There's no heat in it, but Kris believes him.

He could be offended, maybe. But it's not like he wouldn't do the same thing in Tommy's position.

"Hopefully, you won't need to."

Kris rests his hand on Tommy's arm, going for soothing and missing by a mile judging by the reaction.

That's weird.

Sure, he's always had trouble with the concept of personal space, but that kind of thing goes both ways. He doesn't get handsy unless he's sure the other person's on the same page. And – this is Tommy. Something's not right.

Tommy, who's never looked at him like that before. "You've got hidden depths, Kris Allen. Not sure how I feel about that."

"Come on, man, how long have we known each other?" Kris says, holding up his hands. He wiggles his fingers – look, ma, I'm innocent. "We might not hang out, but I know for a fact that Adam tells you stuff."

Tommy's half-hearted attempt at a disapproving expression breaks into a giggle when Kris makes the face that goes with the whole clean hands routine. That drink was strong. It takes him two tries to formulate a sentence and deliver it in anything like a stern voice. "That – that's how I know that you're scary when you want something."

Kris laughs. Full-out, head thrown back, and he ends up having to grab Tommy's arm again to stay upright.

No flinch this time.

"I know what I'm doing. Don't worry," he says, serious as a heart attack, only letting go of Tommy's arm when he nods in response.

His fingers are itching to play with the black ringlets framing one side of Tommy's face, so he lets them. It's a new look, but it really kind of suits. The curls are even softer than they look, somehow, and Kris can't help but press his cheek against them, just to feel. The smell of shampoo fills his nostrils - Tommy must have washed his hair recently. It's nice, something fruity but not too sweet.

Here's the cool thing about Tommy, in a situation like this: he reacts exactly like how Kris would, which in this case means permitting the contact, even leaning into it a little, breath leaving him in a soft sigh.

"Tell you what, it's not just him I'm worried about. Although, you know, he is my boss. I like being employed."

He's really very sweet underneath it all. And deeply practical, which isn't a bad combination to have around.

"Oh, I don't think you have to worry about that. You guys get each other. Everyone needs somebody like that."

Of course, Kris has someone for that too.

  
* * *

  
Cale arrives at least ten minutes early his first day back at rehearsal, because that's the type of person he is. When Kris stumbles in, bleary-eyed, he looks up at the sound of the door slamming open with the beaming grin that always makes Kris breathe more easily.

"Miss me?"

His arms go around Kris like reflex (or the best kind of habit) when Kris goes in for his hug. This – has always been them, and will always be, if he can help it.

Kris doesn't even bother lifting his head from Cale's chest to reply, trusting him to decipher the muffled mumbling. "What do you think? If Kate wouldn't kill me I'd never let you leave."

It's - mostly - a joke, and Cale treats it like one, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he laughs. But he knows Kris well enough to hear the part of him that wasn't joking, too.

"Are you okay? I heard about - "

Kris pulls back so he can give Cale his best narrow-eyed, suspicious look.

"Have you been talking to Katy?"

Another handy thing about Cale - he can't lie to save his life, especially not to Kris.

"Maybe a little bit. So - how's it going?"

"I'm not sure."

> The next envelope arrives with another piece of paper inside, the third panel now filled in. It's the most spectacular of the lot so far, with the kissing couple below now surveyed from above by the man wearing the crown, who has now sprouted wings and is banishing a flaming sword menacingly in their general direction.

Kris takes off for a week to do more shows. Adam goes to three parties, two of which he had to get extremely drunk to enjoy and one with actual friends who keep him way past his bed time.

(It's kind of sad that he even has such a concept, but he is a mature responsible adult with commitments and shit.)

In the morning, it takes him far too long to stumble into the bathroom. He's beyond not ready to start preparing for his day, but there's no helping it.

At first glance, the sight of Kris sitting on his bathroom counter, still wet from his morning shower, makes Adam question his lucidity.

"Morning."

"What are you – when did you come in?"

"You didn't notice?" Kris frowns, hopping off the counter in one smooth motion and peering up at Adam from close range. The morning light streaming through the window lightens his eyes, making them look more hazel than brown.

"I'm not exactly at my best, here."

Kris's hand feels cold on his forehead. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think you're sick."

"I can't be sick. I never get sick," Adam says in his best grumpy child voice.

"Yes, Superman. If you don't rest I bet you'll be feverish tomorrow."

"No rest for the wicked. I have a couple of shoots lined up."

"Someone thinks he's leaving the house today," Kris says in a singsong voice, and backs out of the room. "I'm going to see what I can do about food."

  
* * *

  
Adam's stomach rebels against the possibility of ingesting anything but toast and coffee, which should make lengthy shoots interesting if he has to go to any. Normally, he'd just push past it and go anyway – he's a pro, and he's worked while a lot sicker than this. But the motivation's not quite there today.

When Lane calls to check that they're still on for the day, Kris mouths _cancel it_ over his own coffee, smile widening when Adam nods in acknowledgement.

" – I know, but trust me, I'm not up to it today. A delay's better than shoddy work."

Kris is nodding very solemnly from his perch next to Adam.

Actually -

"But you can start setting me up with producers and songwriters again next week. Cancel everything else you can get away with, I want to focus on getting some ideas down first."

Adam had lots of grand plans when he first started out. Some of it's worked out fine, some of it not so much. Which is okay – that's the nature of the business. Nothing's certain until it's done and there's no such thing as a sure thing, et cetera. If there's one thing he's learned above all else, it's to trust his own instincts. And right now, he feels like making music.

"Can't wait to see what you come up with this time," Kris says when he ends the call, pushing off the kitchen counter and stepping into Adam's personal space.

They've always been this careless about boundaries, but it's only recently that Adam's started to notice. No, more accurately, it's only in the last few months that he's started noticing it in a new way.

All those years ago, he'd shut off the part of his mind that _noticed_ when he saw the wedding band on Kris's finger. They became friends instead, and it worked out just about perfectly. But everything that's happened in the past year has conspired to shatter any barriers he might have built. Now, he's not sure where they are in relation to each other.

And Kris – for whatever reason, Kris seems determined not to make it easy.

"Neither. It's been way too long."

He thinks he means the music, getting back in the studio again. But it doesn't come out like that.

"Yeah, yes it has," Kris breathes, and the look in his eyes –

 _Fuck it._

Kris laughs when Adam pulls him close, his nails digging in when he strokes down Adam's back, making jagged lines that throb with a sweet kind of burn, making Adam shake. He takes his revenge in quick bites over the expanse of skin bared by Kris's open collar. The first time he breaks skin Kris laughs like he's delighted, the low sound cutting off abruptly when he runs out of breath.

 _"Nothing wrong with wanting to really feel it, right?"_ he'd said once, more than a little drunk, blushing and giggly, and the memory sends another flash of heat through Adam now.

When their lips meet, it feels familiar although it's the first time, and every bit as frighteningly, addictively easy as Adam might have imagined. Kris arches against Adam when he grabs his wrists and holds them against the counter, like being pressed together from chest to thigh isn't close enough. The kiss-swollen lips turn the serene curve of his smile into something different entirely, obscene and sweet all at the same time.

And just like that, Adam _wants_ so intensely the sudden, heady power of it scares him.

Worst of all is the soft, hungry look in Kris's eyes, like a weapon aimed straight at every single one of his weak points. Because wanting something, that's not so scary. Knowing you can have it? That's a different set of problems all together.

 _Fuck._

He can make out with friends and have it mean nothing, sure. But this is Kris. They don't do this. Even if it's increasingly difficult to remember why.

"Kris. What the fuck?"

Adam sounds too harsh to his own ears, but Kris doesn't even flinch. "Sorry, I just - I was so scared that I'd have to _explain_ first, and you know how I'm not good with words."

"Yeah, I kind of need words right now. What's going on?"

"What we just did – that wasn't just spur of the moment, or anything like that." Kris laughs, ducking his head. "That's probably pretty obvious. Just, you should know. If you want - you can have that. You can have everything."

There were times when Adam would have been, if not perfectly ecstatic to hear that, then at least more hopeful than scared. But now? He's not sure where either of them stand, and not just with each other. Kris is on the rebound more viciously than anyone he's seen in a long time, and Adam –

Adam suddenly thinks back to Julien's comic, the third panel with the kissing couple below surveyed from above by the tiara-wearing, sword-wielding angel.

(He still doesn't understand what the hell happened with Julien, but he can more or less guess what the last panel might contain now.)

In this state, they'd just be fucking each other up more. And that's the last thing he wants to happen with Kris.

It takes him a moment to find the right words, and then another to be able to look Kris in the eye and voice them out loud.

"I adore you. And that's easy for me to say, because you know. You've always known. But I'm not going to be your rebound fuck. You want to prove something, go find a friend who won't - "

 _\- get all stupidly hung up on it._

"What? Do you really think I'd regret it in the morning?" Kris says, quirking an eyebrow.

 _You don't want me to answer that._

"Yeah, we'd both be screwed. So - let's just not go there."

Kris smiles, crooked, like he's got a secret he's dying to tell someone. "Whatever you say, Adam."

  
* * *

  
It would be so easy to fall for Kris. Maybe he already did, years ago, and he's just realizing it now. But as bitter experience has taught Adam all these years, easy isn't always the best way to go. It's far more likely to fuck you over in the long run.


	7. downfall

If Kris was more of a petty person, he'd blame Julien for this mess. But everyone's got their own way of protecting their own, and whatever Julien's doing, it is working. Kind of. In an impressive, 'cut off your nose to spite your face' way.

None of that would matter if Adam stopped thinking of him as untouchable, though. It's like he's made a pedestal for Kris in his own head, and it's way too high for the person he is. Kris can't figure it out - it's not like Adam doesn't know what he's really like. He and Katy are probably the two people who've seen Kris at his worst the most. Katy has never had any illusions when it comes to Kris, but Adam -

It's like he's wilfully forgetting every time. Maybe Adam's a little too much of a romantic, too in love with the idea of them as they are to even think about changing it.

For Kris, wanting Adam is an uncomplicated feeling. It's always been. More than that, it's easy. He enjoys it. But never let it be said that Kris isn't willing to work for what he's after.

If his previous relationships have taught him anything, it's that he can't do this halfway. It's all or nothing, and it might be a little crazy but he doesn't know how to be any other way.

 _"Either go for what you want or find a way to stop wanting it."_

 _Put that way, the choice is easy._

He's happy to keep chipping away at Adam's resolve, patiently waiting for the dam to burst like he knows it will.

It's only a matter of time.

>  _I'm not scared,_ Kris said, and he meant it.
> 
> He was over being afraid of whatever might happen next.
> 
>  _That's what I thought,_ Katy said, and he could hear her smile. _Then do what you have to do._
> 
> You know I will.

Adam's management sends Az after him in the morning, which is never a good sign. They only do that if he's done something really dumb, like getting photographed mostly naked in a pool with Russell Brand.

(Some things are just difficult to explain away, even if they're perfectly innocuous.)

"Look, trying to deal with your media-savvy Super Scary Ex is hard when I'm stumbling around in the dark. What's going on with Kris?"

And – bam, instant raised hackles.

"What does this have to do with him?"

Az gives him a sharp look that rapidly turns into horror at whatever fucked up expression Adam's got on his face.

"You didn't."

"What? I haven't done anything." Lately. Lately he's been staying home, lying on the couch and watching terrible movies with Kris. Maybe they cuddle a little, but that's it. Mostly.

"I hope not. If you're sleeping with Kris, I do need to know," Az says wryly. She's mostly joking. Or at least he hopes she's joking.

"I didn't - I swear to you, we are not having sex."

They probably could be, though. Which is just a useless thought to have, and Adam tries not to waste his time on useless hypotheticals.

"I'm not the one who thinks you are," Az says grimly.

  


> Q: Hey Julien, how's it going? Wanna tell us what you think of Kris Allen?
> 
> A: I have no idea what you're talking about. Kris is clever and adorable and not at all evil.

  
Even Adam has to grin at the deadpan earnestness Julien manages in delivering that last sentence. The paparazzi have a remarkable tendency to get everything wrong when there's guesswork required, but they can put two and two together when it's being fed to them.

Az quirks an eyebrow at his reaction. "Hilarious, I know. Could you get Super Scary Ex to back off?"

Adam snorts. "Have you met him?"

"Yes. I don't do name-calling otherwise," Az says, the long-suffering expression on her face belying the professional voice.

"That's another thing - don't."

Whatever he's up to, there's one thing Adam's sure of – this isn't like what happened with Sam. Julien's capable of a lot of things, but using Adam isn't one of them.

Az sighs. "Fine, will you talk to Julien?"

"…I'll try."

  


> The fourth envelope arrives that afternoon, with all the panels finally filled in. The crowned man is now pointing his sword at the man with the book, who has a giant question mark over his head. Both of them seem to be gazing at the tall guy with the wild hair.

  
Adam spends five minutes staring at the resulting four-panel comic before picking up the phone.

Julien answers on the third ring. "Got my letter?"

"Yeah. What the hell," Adam says flatly. "You want to explain the last month to me?"

Julien laughs, but even over the phone Adam can tell it's a little shaky. "Why do you think I left, Adam? I've given you enough clues."

The four panel comic, the first landscape with the note -

"…what happened with Kris when you came over?" Adam asks, even though he's suddenly not sure that he really wants an answer.

"Nothing. He was completely honest with me about his intentions, which I appreciate, and I did the only thing I could think of that might work. Only – it hasn't, has it? He doesn't care, and neither do you."

"I care. Of course I care that you left without telling me anything. I could be wrong, but I don't think that's how relationships work."

"That's not what I meant to do." Julien sighs, and when he speaks again, it's in a soft voice Adam's never heard before. "You said to me once that I was a closet romantic, remember that? Maybe you were right."

"Don't tell me that's why – "

" _No._ No, I just know when I've lost the battle. That adorable nutcase is willing to go a lot further than I am for you. I don't know, is that romantic or disturbing?"

"It's not crazy to care about someone. Contrary to what you may believe," Adam says, very carefully.

"No, Adam – you have to understand, there's a reason I tried. Even if it hurt you in the process, because I really did want – " Julien cuts himself off sharply. "Anyway, I would have fought for you in a less screwed up way if I had a chance in hell of winning. That's not a comment on me, by the way, or how I feel about you. It's just that your boy's been stacking the odds in his favour for a long time. If you ask, he might even admit to it."

Adam finds himself tantalisingly close to one of those moments of absolute clarity, when everything suddenly makes sense. But this one requires an exercise of belief that he's not quite capable of, right now. Not where Kris is concerned.

\----------------------------------

Kris picks up the phone when he sees the video on TMZ. It takes him twenty seconds of staring at the number entered under _in case of emergency break glass_ before he decides to text instead of calling.

 _I saw what you said to the paps. hilarious._

 _Thank you. Don't hate, I was just telling the truth._

 _I don't blame you._

 _Because you'd do the same thing? Not gonna lie, this is fascinating to watch._

 _Is that a good thing?_

 _You tell me. People can't look away from train wrecks either._

 _You can try, but I won't let it be that._

 _Did I play this completely wrong, you think? Should have tattled on you earlier._

 _Dunno. I wasn't playing._

\----------------------------------

Adam finds Kris sitting cross-legged on the floor of the lounge in the morning, guitar abandoned beside him.

There's something heartbreakingly young about the smile he turns up at Adam, with the sun shining on his face.

"Morning."

Kris yawns hugely, uncurling on Adam's wonderfully soft and accommodating carpet like a cat and rolling onto his knees in one easy motion, and he suddenly doesn't look so young anymore. The jeans he's got on were probably artfully and expensively torn in a past life, before the denim got worn down until it became snug, threadbare and two shades off grey.

There's a hole in the fabric high on his upper thigh, another one right above the other knee, both big enough to show patches of pale skin. It's an effort for Adam to drag his eyes up to Kris's face, watching his lashes dip before he tilts his face up, narrowing his eyes at Adam.

"Morning. Sleep well?"

Really, really not, and Kris probably knows that.

"I don't enjoy feeling like I've been had, Kris."

Kris straightens up slowly, an arm's length away from Adam. He looks calm, not at all like a person with something to hide. "You talked to Julien? Yeah, 'course not. That's not what's going on here. I'm not - I wouldn't do that to you."

He's so earnest that it makes Adam smile. "Okay, then. Tell me - why are you even doing this?"

"I can lie, if you want," Kris says quietly. "No, I'm not in love with you. Yes, you can totally change my mind."

He doesn't bother trying to sound convincing, but even if he had tried, Adam would have known. He's not sure of much right now, but he's sure of that.

Suddenly, Julien's parting shot from last night rings through his head.

 _"Six years is a lot to play catch-up with."_

"I - I need to go."

  
* * *

  
Adam calls Katy.

"Where are you, New York? Do you have time to come to LA? Or I'll come to you, whichever works. We really need to talk."

  
* * *

  
" - and then what happened?" Katy asks, and she's a good listener, like always, but there's something about the way she says that -

Adam smacks his forehead with his palm. He's doing great with missing the freaking obvious lately. "You – oh my God, how long have you known?"

"Kris and I, we keep in touch."

Katy smiles down at her milkshake. It's been a while since they've managed to be in the same place at the same time, but she hasn't changed at all. Adam remembers thinking how well matched she was with Kris, the way they both had that unshakable core of strength that nothing could get at, and how carefree they were about everything outside of it.

"What do you think? Honestly, okay, no need to sugar-coat it for me."

"I think Kris deserves to be happy. If being with you makes that happen, I'm okay with that. You're a good guy," Katy says, very seriously.

Adam has a sudden, horrible sinking feeling. "Katy, you have to know – during Idol, and afterwards, I never – "

"Of course not. Being attracted, you can't help that part, but I never thought for a second that you'd take advantage. And…here's the thing about Kris. You've probably noticed it already, actually – when he's focused on someone, it doesn't matter if he doesn't say anything. You can tell. I always knew when he was mine."

It's true. Adam doesn't even have to think back that far, just that morning, in fact, the way Kris had looked at Adam like he was the only thing left in the world.

"What do you do when someone gives you a gift you're not sure you can accept?"

"I don't know. But I do know that he's not going to stop trying."

"This sucks."

It wasn't as if Adam didn't know what it was like when Kris wanted something. During Idol and the tour, he'd just assumed it was his attention Kris was after when Kris teased and flirted, but now?

"You broke him. You should be fixing him," he says, more than a little petulantly. A year ago, maybe two, none of this would be a problem. Sure it's unfair, but sue him, he's feeling a little fragile.

Anyway, it's not like Katy would ever take offence. She just laughs. "What did I do? Adam, do you think you possibly – maybe – had a slightly biased view of my relationship with Kris?"

The way she says it sets alarm bells ringing in his head.

"What do you mean by that?"

Katy bites her lip, considering.

"Just that Kris doesn't see things the way most people do, sometimes. All I did was ask him to be a little less selfless, next time."

 _"'Learn to be greedy,' that's what she told me once. I think I have," Kris says, his tone light. "It's been good for me."_

Not for the first time this month, Adam has a creeping feeling of impending doom. "Why did I ask him to move in again?"

"Because I asked you to make sure he eats and sleeps at regular intervals. Remember? With Jonathan – that really didn't work out the way anybody wanted it to." Katy frowns. "Why are you even resisting, anyway?"

"Isn't it obvious? Can you say this isn't going to be a disaster?"

"Of course not. But that's not what's stopping you."

She's right, which - it kind of sucks that he's that transparent.

"I don't – can you blame me for not being sure, after everything?"

Katy chuckles, shaking her head and looking at him as if he's the most precious thing she's ever seen. "Adam, you're a good person, a good friend, to worry about all that. But…at this point I think you need to ask yourself what you really want, and go for it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"It could ruin our relationship forever."

Katy shakes her head. "Have a little faith. After everything Kris's done – do you really think he hasn't thought of that?" she says sharply.

Adam feels the disappointment in her gaze like a slap. "No, but - you have to understand, I spent a long time thinking of him as off-limits. Even after Jonathan – "

"Even after Jonathan, you thought he'd end up finding another girl to settle down with."

 _Well._

"…yeah, guess I did. Can you really see it, though, the two of us? We live pretty different lives, even now."

Katy sighs. "Adam, he moved in with you. And I'm not going into everything that's happened since then, because you were right there for it. Just…think about it."

  
* * *

  
When he gets home, Kris is sitting at the dining table reading his emails.

"I think I'm getting too old for college tours," he says, peering myopically at the screen.

Adam hands him his glasses on his second pass by the table, as well as a glass of orange juice. "What is this 'too old' nonsense? Are you having a mid-life crisis? Do I need to stage an intervention?"

"Only if I buy a sports car in a really obnoxious colour. Thanks. Nice day?"

"I had lunch with Katy," Adam says. Might as well. It's not like Katy wouldn't tell Kris all about it anyway.

"Yeah, I know. We're doing something tomorrow morning before the show, not sure what yet."

"You're playing a LA show tomorrow?"

"Yep. Tour kick off, kind of. The venue's smallish, it should be pretty nice. You should come," Kris says. He very diligently licks the rim of the glass clean.

\----------------------------------

Kris loves a lot of things about being a musician, and performing live is probably somewhere near the top of the list.

The point of a song is in its melody and rhythm, how it makes him feel, and the rush he gets, being able to share that with the band, with everybody in the audience – he lives for that.

There's always this moment during a good show when Kris looks down at the crowd and can't help but wallow a little in how right it feels to be doing exactly this.

It's what he's meant for.

\----------------------------------

Kris's concerts are nothing like Adam's (the smaller lighting budget and distinct lack of dancers, for a start), but there are common elements. Showmanship comes in a lot of different forms, after all.

For Kris, it's his gift for sounding utterly heartfelt, no matter what he's singing. You can be standing in a crowd of thousands and still feel like the pain and longing in his voice is just for you. It's emotional pornography, pretty much, and Adam can definitely see how it would become addictive.

Right now, the crowd's screaming for an encore, and there's a sound tech on stage moving the keyboard closer to the center. When Kris peeks his head out, the wave of sound crests into a single voice, and he's beaming as he walks back on.

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna play one more. Just me, though, we'll let the band have a break. This one's – heh, it's kind of special to me. Only two other people have ever heard the whole thing before today."

Kris glances up from his keyboard, and there's a moment when he seems to be looking straight at Adam, but it's so quick that Adam can't be sure.

"I wrote this song about someone else, but funny thing is, it kind of applies to my life right now too. It's about honesty and - and doing everything you can, for someone you love."

 _Stay_ sounds completely different with this new arrangement, so much so that it takes Adam a moment to recognise the song, even though he's been listening to the demo on repeat recently.

The piano line blunts some of the harder edges, making it less angry, giving it more of that yearning and gently sensual vibe Kris is so good at. Then there's his voice, husky and hollowed out.

 _You know I'd crawl and I'd beg /  
and I'd go to war /  
just to hold your heart in my hand /  
All I want is everything /  
and all you do is run away_

".. _please stay_."

The crowd is dead silent when Kris lingers on the last note. Then there's an eruption of noise, but Adam's not really hearing anything right now.

There's the problem with Kris in a nutshell, or at least the most important one. He's reckless about the weirdest things.

And it's all Adam can do to keep his heart from expanding all out of shape. Because he knows how easily the longing and elation filling him up right now could be replaced by fear, and of everything he possesses in the world, this is definitely one he can't stand to lose.

  
* * *

  
Kris almost beats him home after the show.

"I knew you'd want to talk, either way," he says quietly, staring down at his sneakers in Adam's entranceway.

Adam has a sudden flashback to the day Kris moved in, dragging his old suitcase and looking like he'd just had his heart pulled out through his chest, and has to look away before he does something incredibly stupid. Like make promises he can't keep.

It takes him several tries to find words that are remotely appropriate.

"Come inside first. Do you want some tea for your throat?"

"Please."

It hadn't been one of Kris's crazy 20 song sets, but it always does take a few shows to get back in the swing of singing for a couple of hours each night. Adam's the same way.

Kris takes his cup from Adam carefully, still not quite looking at him. It's the most careful he's been – ever, really, and Adam hates it almost as much as he hates the way Kris deliberately sat an arm's length away from him on the couch. He never wants Kris to walk on eggshells around him.

"Thanks. So – you know what, you talk. I asked a question. Can I have an answer?"

Adam waits until Kris's drunk half the cup, takes it from him and leaves it on the coffee table. Then he half turns to face Kris so he's not tempted to look away, because that would be a lie of omission in itself, and he wants to be absolutely honest.

"Didn't I already give you one? Kris, I love you, but we are not doing this. No, you know what, because I love you and it matters to me that we're still friends after everything that's happened, I can't – I'm not going to let you mess this up on a whim."

Kris smiles, his eyes shining, and brushes his fingers over Adam's cheek like he's touching something rare and precious.

"Adam. Do you really think that's what it is? All this time – you know, you've seen what it means to me. You know what I'd do. What I've done." He bites his lip and takes a deep breath before going on. "I'm sure we could be perfectly happy with other people. But I don't want that."

Adam doesn't quite remember how to move for a moment.

"Why Jonathan, then? Why didn't you say something sooner?"

"It doesn't work like that. You - you never seemed like a possibility until - " Kris stops.

"Until what?" Adam says quickly.

"Until I realized Katy was right. Sometimes it's okay to be greedy, to try for something that might seem out of reach. And once I started thinking that way, it didn't seem all that impossible." His lips quirk up at that, smile going self-deprecating and a little shy. "I knew I couldn't wait for you to say anything, because you were never going to. You're far too freaking noble."

Adam laughs like he hasn't done in a long time. When he stops, it takes a couple of breaths before he can talk. "I don't think I'm noble."

"No?"

"I think I'm scared."

 _"Just – don't break his heart."_

 _"Or else?" Adam laughed, trying to lighten the atmosphere._

 _"I'm not joking," Katy said, and Adam had to fight down a chill at the look in her eyes._

The way Kris is staring at him right now, Adam can't imagine doing anything to take that away. He's probably not capable of it.

"Adam, nobody's going to blame you. I'm plenty old enough to make my own stupid decisions, I can take the consequences."

"That's not what I'm afraid of," Adam says quietly. If anything goes wrong, he's not going to be in any shape to think about blame.

"No? Okay. Do you trust me?"

Adam frowns. "That's not fair."

"It's what I'm asking. That's really what it comes down to, right?" Kris says, and he doesn't look worried any more. When Adam raises a hand to trace the curve of his smile, he places his hand on top of Adam's, leaning into the touch.

"What do you want me to do?"

Adam sounds helpless to his own ears. Being backed into a corner by his own fear is always more difficult – in any other case, all he'd need to get out would be a helping hand. Right now, no one can get him out except himself.

"Say yes," Kris whispers against the tips of his fingers.

"You know what people are going to say. They're already saying it."

Kris takes Adam's hand, clasping it between his own. He's not smiling any more. "I don't care. You get that? See, this is why I'm really an awful person. I want too much."

Adam shakes his head. "There's nothing wrong with that."

 _If there is, then I've got the same problem._

"It's selfish, right? But that's fine. I'm okay with being selfish. Are you?"

There's really only way one he's capable of answering that right now. But not with those words, not without asking first.

"What if you're my second choice?"

Kris's mouth barely curls up at the corners. His eyes on Adam are calm and clear. "I'm not."

Adam could argue – he's not sure how, but he'd come up with something. Truth is, though, he's sick of fighting Kris and more than that, he's sick of fighting himself. Since when has he looked at something he wanted and flinched away at the cost?

Since he realized how much he stood to lose, maybe. Or since he got older and wiser, and a little jaded about living the life he wanted for so long. It became too easy to lose himself living day by day. That's how he let all this sneak up on him.

In the end, some risks are always worth taking.

Kris's shoulders feel oddly vulnerable under his hands, his size giving off an illusion of fragility that's never been more than skin deep, not as long as Adam's known him. There's something young and hopeful in his smile when Adam cups his face in both hands, though, making Adam's heart hammer in his chest.

The kiss is almost chaste at first, just the press of his lips against Kris's, and when Adam breathes in all he can smell is Kris, liquid soap and aftershave and something that's purely him -

 _Home._

Then Kris's lips part for Adam's tongue and suddenly it's anything but chaste, everything as intense as it was the last time he had a taste of this, and couldn't stop himself from wanting more no matter how hard he tried. It's easier this time, though, like they have all the time in the world.

(And who's to say they don't?)

Kris shivers hard when Adam brushes his thumb over the delicate skin at the back of his neck, fingernails digging into Adam's shoulders.

"I – let me. I want to – "

Then he's sliding off the couch, and the sight of Kris on his knees in front of him sends a shock of heat through Adam, the same way it had that night months ago –

 _When his vision clears again, Kris is kneeling at his feet, hands sliding up his thighs._

 _Abruptly, higher brain function becomes much more difficult._

\- except this time the safety net's gone.

Kris's hands are a little unsteady as they urge Adam's hips up and tug down his sweatpants, but the look on his face is anything but unsure. Adam can't hold back a gasp when Kris strokes up the length of his cock, touch light like he's just testing the waters before his hands settle on Adam's hips. He's half-hard, heart pounding with an odd mix of anticipation and something that could almost be fear.

What if –

Kris sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin of Adam's inner thigh, and the jolt that goes through Adam at that puts an end to all coherent thought. He winds his fingers into Kris's hair because he needs _something_ to anchor him and gets a glimpse of Kris's little smirk right before he leans in again, licking over the skin he'd bitten with exaggerated care before pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the head of Adam's cock.

Adam makes a sound he's only ever made maybe a handful of times in his life before, which stretches out into a moan when Kris's tongue darts out to lick around the head, like he's goddamn _curious_ about the taste.

"Kris. Don't – "

 _Don't be a fucking tease,_ he'd meant to say, except Kris grins like he knows exactly what Adam's thinking -

"Don't what? Do this?"

And apparently that's the cue for Kris to open his mouth and take Adam in with no hesitation. The wet warmth of his mouth is almost a shock, but not as much as the realization that this is Kris pressing Adam back into the couch, Kris's hand wrapping around the base of Adam's cock, Kris swirling his tongue around the tip with slow deliberation.

When he imagined this before, the few times he'd allowed himself to think of Kris in this context, he'd thought it might be sweetly awkward, or desperate and frantic. Not like this, as easy as if they've done this before. Even with his eyes closed, his hands blindly petting Kris's hair, it's a lot, heady and overwhelming.

When he does manage to open his eyes, it's not even the sight of Kris's wet, pink mouth wrapped around his cock that does him in.

It's the way Kris is looking up at him, so intense and focused the rest of the world might as well not exist.

Adam could drown in that look and not ever come out the other side. It steals his breath and makes his fingers tighten in Kris's hair without his permission, and he'd apologize, but Kris's eyes flutter closed at the tug and the way he moans around Adam's cock kind of shorts out his brain. The next thing he knows, he's terrifyingly close.

"Oh fuck, Kris, I'm – "

His voice is rough and low, all but unrecognisable. Kris just hums happily around him, though, and the last thing Adam registers before whiteout is the intensely pleased gleam in his eyes.

When he comes back to something approximating reality again, Kris is giving him a look he recognises immediately, the memory piercing through the haze of orgasm.

 _"I'm Kris. And you're an amazing singer."_

The realization makes him shiver just as Kris draws himself up and reaches out to cup his face, leaning in for a kiss.

He whispers, "please," against Adam's mouth, soft and uncertain like he still thinks he has to ask for anything, and that's so wrong Adam has to kiss the worry line on his forehead away, and then the flush over his cheekbones, the faint hint of stubble over his jaw line, and finally the sweet curve of his swollen mouth.

It takes both of them far too long to get Kris's shirt off, which Adam plans to blame on post-orgasm bonelessness as soon as he can make himself stop tonguing one of Kris's nipples, just for the way his breath hitches every time Adam scrapes his teeth against the hard little nub, and the high, broken whine when Adam sucks on it.

Kris's cock is hard and wet in Adam's hands, and he's surprisingly vocal as Adam strokes him, these hot little sounds that make Adam so crazy he has to kiss Kris again to shut him up. He loses himself in the feel of Kris's mouth against his for a few long, long moments, until Kris runs out of breath and comes shuddering in Adam's arms, head thrown back on a long, drawn-out moan -

And the way ecstasy transforms his face, like the most perfect piece of music. That's a memory Adam wants to keep forever.

  
* * *

  
Adam most certainly does not regret anything in the morning, even though the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes is Kris hovering over him, staring.

"That's a little creepy. Also, why are you awake?"

He can feel it when Kris laughs with his whole body. "Phoners for tour promo. And I'm not creepy. I was just about to wake you up. Your publicist called."

Az is going to throw a fit.

"Aw, fuck."

Kris giggles. "Fun conversation coming up?"

"Like you can't imagine." Adam sighs. "My life is pretty crazy, you know that."

"Sure," Kris says blithely, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. It's adorable and annoying at the same time, especially when accompanied by that tone of I-am-humouring-you.

"I won't mind if you don't want to get swept up in everything," Adam says, and regrets the words the moment they leave his mouth. There are so many ways Kris could take that, and most of them aren't good.

But Kris just laughs again, his nose wrinkling with it. "Adam, we've known each other how long? And I still get questions about you in interviews."

"Only when you refuse to give them anything to latch onto," Adam says wryly.

Kris rolls his eyes. "I like my peace and quiet."

"That's my point. Good luck with that now."

Kris absently brushes a stray lock of hair off Adam's forehead. He's quiet for a moment, thinking.

"Hey. Remember how we worked it out before, for Idol? That was cool. I miss that."

Both of them had been new to it all, back then, and it was natural to talk to each other about how they should handle something, especially after the show, with all the craziness that was the Idol tour.

Adam remembers thinking how nice it was to have someone else there who understood exactly what he was going through. And not just so they could commiserate, _what are our lives, seriously,_ and _did you ever think it would be like this,_ but also someone who understood the media game and was a willing, even eager co-conspirator.

It's a shock to realize how much he misses that. Maybe he doesn't need it, maybe he's fine on his own, but -

  


> It was pretty early on, maybe top 11, and Adam had been trying not to let everything get to him but the effort was only making him cranky and stressed.
> 
> "They asked if I want to make a statement. Like everything about me's not enough of a statement?"
> 
> Kris bumps his shoulder. "You're dealing with it fine, man. The people who want to know already know, the people who don't will figure it out soon, or when you're free to talk about it." He grins. "Maybe when you win."
> 
> Adam can't help but grin back. "There you go with that again."
> 
> "What? I'm just saying, you're probably gonna win. You can sing, you're really, really likeable and you're smart about the media stuff. Don't stress about anything else."
> 
> Left to his own devices, Adam thinks too much, and there's no stopping the stress when that happens. But Kris makes it hard to get too obsessive.
> 
> "I need to start keeping you in my pocket, o personalized self-help guru. Thanks."
> 
> "You don't need to do anything. Like I'm ever going to let you go," Kris says. His eyes are bright, and he looks like he means every word.

  
Adam's entire life so far has been an object lesson in the difference between just wanting something and grasping for it with both hands. That's probably why he's not all that great at letting go, not once he has what he wanted. Sometimes it's been an issue in the past, but he doesn't think it's going to be like that any more. Not with Kris.

"We were pretty fucking awesome," he says. It's only true.

Kris grins. "Us against the world, let's do it again. It'll be fun."


	8. epilogue

American Idol was responsible for any number of things good and evil during its ten season run. The longstanding friendship between season 8 winner Kris Allen and runner-up Adam Lambert which recently became a full-fledged romance probably ranks amongst the most interesting. (Yes, even more so than the enduring career of Taylor Hicks on Broadway. Remember him? Anybody?)

At first glance, Allen and Lambert couldn't be more different, and that was how America first met them - as complete opposites who polarized the Idol voting public, Allen the pious, laid-back Southern crooner and Lambert the flamboyant performer with the unreal voice. Five years on, it's tempting to conclude that not much has changed there, the rough and tumble of the music industry having done seemingly very little to reshape either of these men. Both remain remarkably self-possessed. In an interview setting, Allen is more likely to skim along a topic while Lambert dives straight in, but both come across as warm and charming.

Q: Let me get the formalities out of the way first. Can you confirm the reports that you're in a relationship?  
Kris: [grins] Well, me and Adam have been in a relationship for years. No, sorry, I know what you meant. Yes.  
Adam: People know that we got to be friends on Idol, but I don't know if they realize we kept in touch all this time. And eventually it just happened. We realized that we'd be good for each other.

Q: Kris, how has coming out affected your career?  
Kris: I don't really think about it like that. Maybe some people think twice about buying my music now, for whatever reason, but that's okay. I've probably gained some new fans too, people who had no idea who I was before all this. Whatever happens, happens.

Q: I can imagine that you lead fairly different lifestyles - how is that working out?  
Adam: You'd be surprised. I think everybody in the music industry goes through similar things, it's just how much of it you get into. Maybe I have more of a reputation as someone who goes out a bit and Kris tends to stay under the radar, but in the end we're both just musicians.  
Kris: Exactly. We compromise. It works out.

  


  
_If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing._

 _Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails._ [1 Corinthians 13:1 - 1 Corinthians 13:8]

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter titles:
> 
> [Goldenhorse - Maybe Tomorrow](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=guB3FI5fR4s)   
> [Muse - Can't Take My Eyes Off You](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cMU316ixzc0)   
> [The Like - Release Me](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4IBPbCjY8aA)   
> [Manic Street Preachers - Your Love Alone Is Not Enough](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bLKerAikEg0)   
> [Tom McRae - A Day Like Today](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5IZ1dJ4p2I)   
> [Dido - Don't Leave Home](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zyY7iocn0PE)   
> [Matchbox Twenty - Downfall](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VwOK4lAkbLA)
> 
>  
> 
> I would have never finished writing this if it weren't for the continuous input and support of my magnificent betas, oatmeal_cookie, inbetweencabs, and yetunknown, as well as the endless, patient encouragement from my girls, who endured my whinging with good humour and patience and cheered me on til the end. Thank you all so much.
> 
> And of course thank you for reading, if you've managed to stick with this thing to the end. All feedback eagerly accepted.


End file.
